Through the Inferno
by P.S. I'm Crazy
Summary: A vigilante from the Bronx finds the afterlife to be different from what she expected. Instead of being greeted by angels with harps, she literally falls into the path of Gandalf the Grey, who sets her up on an adventure that she only ever dreamed of. WARNING: Contains adult language, themes, depictions of violence, and sexual content
1. Prologue: Some Dumbfuck Shot Me

**A/N:** Contains adult language, themes, and depictions of violence.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Prologue: Some Dumbfuck Shot Me**

* * *

"Damn it," I whispered. I took a moment to check the bloody line on my shoulder before running. I was lucky. That was all that was keeping me alive: luck. I had been an idiot. I was careless. I should've known it was a trap.

I climbed the scaffolding as quickly as I could, ignoring the burn of my wound. I heard gunshots and knew they were catching up. I wouldn't let it end this way. I wasn't about to be taken down by idiots with guns. I felt another bullet catch my leg as I reached the top. This one bit deeply into my calf and I grunted at the pain. Still lucky. I climbed through the open window and down the side of the abandoned (at least legally abandoned) building. I hit the ground with a groan as the hole in my leg reminded me it was still there. I ignored it and ran. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ I thought and headed for the hole in the chain link fence.

I heard a gunshot.

It felt like someone had hit my back with a freight train. I looked down and in the dim light of an old street lamp I saw a hole in my chest, right where my heart was.

I fell to my knees and started panting. It hurt. It hurt like hell. My stupid heart was still trying to work, still trying to pump blood through my body. It was pumping way too hard for something with a hole in it. I gasped and stars blinked in front of my eyes. I had never imagined it would feel like this. I had been shot in my arms and legs before and those had been excruciating. Those wounds were nothing, _nothing_ compared to this.

I heard slow footsteps behind me as something sticky and warm spread under my shirt. Blood. I bit back the noise that threatened to come from my mouth. Even with a hole in my heart, I wasn't about to let anyone know how completely defeated I was. A pair of black shoes came into view and they stopped. I looked up and saw a man standing there with a smoking gun. Even as my vision blurred, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew him. I had seen him before, but I couldn't figure out where.

The man stared at me. He had seen me before, as well. I stared at him and tried to remember where I had seen those black eyes before. The short brown hair looked unfamiliar, though. His face… I knew his face. I had seen him before. His eyes widened and a sick grin spread over his mouth and reached his black eyes.

"Holy fuck, you're that little girl from all those years ago," he said with a laugh. I stared at him a moment longer before I realized who was standing in front of me. My eyes widened before they narrowed into slits and a growl rose from my throat. I coughed and tasted blood. My vision was doubling. I wouldn't last much longer. The man laughed a little more.

"The one that got away," he said as if he was reminiscing. "Very few people have walked in on me making a deal and lived. Actually, you were the only one." He smirked. "And then you became a little super hero. Have you read the newspapers? They were calling you… oh, what the fuck was it? Something like 'Video Vigilante'. Shitty, right? Yeah, well even if you've got a fucking stupid name, you still caused a lot of trouble for everyone."

I watched him as carefully as I could. Slowly, I lowered my hand and found the small dagger on my thigh. He was too busy talking about how big of a pain in the ass I was to his boss. I gripped the knife tightly and waited. The man leaned forward, a twisted smile on his face.

"I wonder what your real name is," he mused. "I doubt it has the words-" I was finished listening to him. With a speed that should have been impossible after losing so much blood, I swung my knife. The blade pierced flesh and cut across his throat. A sticky spray of red shot out of his neck before it began to pour onto the pavement. He coughed in surprise, spewing his blood over my face. He dropped to his knees and choked, grabbing desperately at his throat. A small smile played over my lips as my vision tunneled.

"Blair," I said. "My name is Blair." The last thing I saw before everything went black was the man's body twitching on the ground.

* * *

**A/N:** This is a small introduction to my OC, Blair. Don't worry, you'll see Middle Earth soon enough.

This is my first story, so please, let me know what you think of it!


	2. Chapter 1: Am I Dead or on Pain Killers?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Chapter 1: Am I Dead or on Pain Killers?**

* * *

I hit the ground on my back and I felt the wind get knocked out of me. I sputtered and choked, trying desperately to breathe again. When I finally did, I relaxed and tried to calm down.

I was alive.

Alive.

That was not remotely possible. I had been shot. I remembered the feeling, the agony of the bullet destroying my heart. But there I was, struggling to regain control over my breath. Where was I?

"Good gracious me," said a surprised and gravelly voice behind me. I stood and spun around as quickly as I could, the effort causing me to choke on air again. I pulled my knife out instinctively and readied myself for whatever was behind me. There was no way I could have possibly prepared myself for what I saw.

I took in my surroundings at the same time as I took in the person in front of me. I was standing in the middle of dirt. I realized I was standing on a dirt road… in the countryside. After living in New York City for as long as I could remember, it was just weird. As far as I could see, there were rolling hills covered with bright green grass under a nearly cloudless blue sky. Central Park was nothing compared to it. I could feel the rawness, the dirtiness of the place. It wasn't like the New York dirt where you were afraid to touch anything. It was almost a childlike dirtiness. It was the kind of thing that invited you to go running through the grass barefoot and make mud pies to bake in the sun. There were people outside. Not many, just a couple here and there tending to their gardens. They were all small, even smaller than me. I had almost thought they were all children, but I could see the wrinkles and lines on some of their faces and realized they were just little people. I saw and thought all of this in a second. In the next second, I tried to understand the man standing in front of me.

It was Ian McKellan… dressed as Gandalf.

My jaw dropped as I took in the sight. It was all there. The grey robe, the pointed hat, the gnarly staff, and the long beard. I was too shocked to move. _Ian-freaking-McKellan as Gandalf the Grey is standing in front of me… Oh my… am I in Hobbiton? I'm on the SET OF LORD OF THE RINGS?!_

Ian looked at me with concern. I looked at him with complete confusion. There was no way this was possible. Everything about this was impossible.

"I'm not going to harm you, my dear," he said soothingly. "Please, put away your knife and tell me what's happened to you." I looked around, trying to see the camera crew and Peter Jackson. _Maybe this is heaven. Yeah, I would end up in nerd heaven, wouldn't I? That must be it. I'm in heaven._ Slowly, I lowered my knife and sheathed it. I stared at Ian/Gandalf warily. I wasn't sure if in this heaven I was on set or in some kind of Middle Earth replica and I would spend the rest of eternity frolicking with members of the Fellowship. I wouldn't mind that at all. I looked around and saw that some of the Hobbits were eyeing me suspiciously. I decided that extras weren't usually method actors and actresses, so this was probably Middle Earth. I took a deep breath and met Gandalf's sharp blue eyes.

"Gandalf?" I asked. His eyes widened and his mouth opened just a bit.

"Yes, that is my name," he said cautiously. "How did you come to learn it?"

"Um, from some books."

"Books?" he asked, even more confused than before. "I have never come across any piece of literature with my name in it."

"They're not from this world," I blurted before I could stop myself. Gandalf's eyes widened even further and I swallowed. He looked around and took a step forward.

"Let us, eh, walk as we discuss, um, what has happened," he said. I kept my mouth shut as I turned and walked beside him. I could feel my face grow warm. It took me a moment to realize I was blushing. _Blushing_. When was the last time I had blushed? Did people blush a lot in nerd heaven? But wouldn't nerd heaven be a place where you weren't embarrassed by anything? Maybe this wasn't heaven. Maybe this was just some kind of afterlife. I would just spend my time with fictional characters that I loved.

_I wonder if Em is here._

I knew as soon as I thought of her that this place wasn't heaven. Emily would definitely be in nerd heaven with me. We would have gone on nerd adventures and our little nerd hearts would have been bursting with nerd joy as we played pranks with Merry and Pippin. And if this place was any kind of heaven, I wouldn't have felt the dull ache in my chest that presented itself whenever I thought of Em. I looked up at Gandalf and found him eyeing me with something like worry in his face. I wanted to think that it was just because I had dropped from the sky and told him that I read books from a different world, but I knew that my emotions had also been plain on my face. I hated that. I could keep myself in check most of the time. Still, the thought of my dead best friend made my heart and face twist in pain. I smiled awkwardly at the wizard and looked at that dirt road. I kicked at a small pebble and tried to think of what to say.

"So," I began tactfully, "how did I get here?"

"I was hoping you would know," Gandalf responded slowly.

"No, I meant did I fall or just materialize in front of you? It felt like I fell."

"You fell," he confirmed, "but not from high up. You appeared a few feet above the road in front of me. It was almost as if you fell through a hole in the air."

"Like a cartoon," I said with a smirk. And now I was joking around. With Gandalf. In Middle Earth. Because apparently that was something that could happen.

"Pardon?" Gandalf questioned. Right. No cartoons in Middle Earth.

"It just… not… from here," I said awkwardly. We fell silent for a few moments.

"So you are not from this world," he sighed.

"No," I said. My world was real. This place was made up a long time ago.

"I suppose I should have guessed," said Gandalf. "You don't look like anyone I've ever seen." I gritted my teeth and tried not to get too angry. _He's not making fun of you. He's really never seen a Korean before. He's never seen anyone from Asia or America or anywhere before._

"I know," I said. It came out a little harsh and Gandalf picked up on it. He nodded and wisely left my appearance at that. We walked a little farther before I stopped. The wizard took a few more steps before noticing my absence and he turned. I frowned at him, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to ask the question. Gandalf looked at me expectantly and I decided he was as good a person as any to ask.

"Is this the afterlife?" I asked. I felt my face grow warm again as he raised his eyebrows at me.

"The afterlife?" he repeated. I nodded. "Why do you ask?" I closed my eyes. It had happened. I didn't know how I was still standing because there was no doubt in my mind that I had died. The pain of having a bullet in my heart was a memory beating in my chest.

"I died," I said simply. Gandalf closed the distance between us and he stared into my eyes, searching for, I assumed, a lie. His face changed from suspicion to worry.

"No," he whispered. "This is not an afterlife." He turned and continued walking. I followed after him.

"That's impossible," I said with a laugh. "I died and now I'm here."

"How did you die?" he asked.

"I was shot."

"With what?"

"With a gun."

"A what?"

"With a gun. You don't have them here." Gandalf stopped again and stared at me. I stared back, trying hard not to be cowed by the wizard, despite the fact that he was at least two feet taller.

"This is not a place where the dead rise," he said firmly. "This is a place where the living die. I have seen many pass on, but I have never… You must be mistaken."

"I am not," I hissed. "I felt my blood pouring out of me. I felt my heart giving up. I was dying. My heart had a fucking hole in it. There is _no way_ I survived that." The wizard was taken aback by my ferocity and he blinked when I swore. I didn't care. I had always hated when people said I was a liar, and I wasn't about to let someone get away with it just because they were an awesome character from my favorite books. Gandalf pondered what I said for a moment before we continued walking.

"You say you came from another world," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "It's called Earth, as opposed to Middle Earth."

"You mentioned books."

"_The Hobbit, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, _and _The Return of the King_," I recited, "plus a few more, but those are the four most popular of the books concerning Middle Earth."

"What are they about?" he asked. I turned and looked at him.

"About… a lot of things," I said carefully. I looked him up and down. The meaning of his clothing really hit me then. "You're still grey."

"Still grey?" he repeated. I shook my head and waved my hand to keep him from questioning.

"So I guess this is before _The Fellowship_," I said to myself. Gandalf stared at me, trying to figure out what I was talking about. "Where are you going?"

"To see if a Hobbit I knew when he was young would care to share-"

"In an adventure," I said along with Gandalf. His eyes widened. I looked up at him with a large smile on my face. "I know what's going to happen, or at least what's supposed to."

"From the books?" he clarified. I nodded.

"What's happening now," I said, "this is just before the beginning of _The Hobbit_. The story begins when you go to meet Bilbo. Well, of course the story started way before that, but the book opens with this part." Gandalf looked at me and I could see the wheels turning in his head. For some reason, it made me worry.

"So you know of our quest?" he said.

"Yeah," I replied slowly. "I know quite a bit." He pondered my words for a moment.

"And you know the future?" he asked. I shrugged.

"Well, I'm not in the books, so I don't know how much my being here will change the story," I said. I thought for a moment before a smile spread over my face. "But I know that we're going to find Bilbo Baggins sitting on a stone bench with his pipe. He'll be blowing smoke rings and enjoying the sunshine." Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"It's not unlikely for a Hobbit," he said.

"But still pretty specific," I challenged. We continued walking to Bag End in silence. I smiled smugly and he seemed to be wondering about everything that had just happened. I guessed that even though he was a wizard, this day had been a little different. I found myself wanting to talk to Gandalf more. I mean, how often did people get dropped into their favorite book? Not often, I guessed. I tried to think of something to say, but all I could think about was the stupid weather. Then I got an idea. I grinned and tossed my head back.

"_The sky is beautiful here_," I said. Gandalf froze beside me. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye and snorted. He looked even more baffled than when I had landed on my ass in front of him.

"_You speak Elvish?_" he asked. I nodded.

"_And Khuzdul_," I said, changing to the language of the Dwarves. _Suck it, everyone who made fun of Emily and me for learning all the Tolkien languages!_ Gandalf stared at me with a new appreciation. I smiled happily. I had just impressed a wizard. I continued walking and Gandalf followed.

"_What others do you know?_" he continued in Elvish.

"_I know a little of the tongues of Men, and I know some Black Speech as well, but I'm not going to prove that to you, not here._" He nodded in agreement.

"_Hmm… Oh!_" he pondered for a moment before his head lifted up and he frightened me with his excitement. "_I recall something now, an old rumor. I had heard of a person coming from another world once. A girl, who was said to have wandered into Mirkwood._"

"_The Dwarves and Bilbo end up in Mirkwood_," I said. "_They travel there after Beorn's house._" Gandalf stared at me for a moment before a small smile pulled over his lips and reached his eyes. I raised my brows when I realized what had happened behind the smile. The Grey Pilgrim hadn't really believed me until that moment. At least, he hadn't believed I knew the future. I guessed he had planned to take them to Beorn's and hadn't told anyone about it. I felt a little miffed at his disbelief, but I couldn't blame him. How often did strange girls fall out of the sky and tell him they knew the future? Apparently, it was rare, but not unheard of.

"_Yes, I was planning on going in the direction of Beorn_," Gandalf said. "_Perhaps you accompany us on this journey. You seem knowledgeable, and possibly capable in a fight. Perhaps you could even help our company avoid certain difficulties._" I thought about that possibility before I shook my head. Gandalf raised an eyebrow at me.

"_Look, maybe I'll go_," I said, "_but I won't stop anything from happening. No one dies on the journey to Erebor. Yes, they run into trouble, and it isn't exactly pleasant, but everything that happens needs to happen. Without the difficulties, certain characters won't be developed and bonds won't occur and specific events that will shape the future of all of Middle Earth will never come to pass_."

I thought of Bilbo, facing the Trolls and growing a kind of backbone from it. Without the Trolls, there would be no Glamdring, no Orcrist, and no Sting. I thought of the Goblins in the mountains. No riddles in the dark… no… Bilbo had to get the Ring. Above everything else, _Bilbo had to get the Ring_. If he didn't find it, it would never reach Frodo. It would never be destroyed. I thought of the spiders. That was when Bilbo really became a little hero. That was how Sting was named. That was when the Dwarves finally respected the Hobbit. Then Thorin would respect him when he broke them out of the Elves' palace in Mirkwood. Everything had to happen.

I stared at Gandalf, hoping he would understand the weight of my words. He stared back at me before nodding. He recognized the importance of what I said and I smiled a little. I looked up the road and could see Bag End. A little guy who looked suspiciously like Martin Freeman was sitting on a stone bench, blowing a smoke ring. I smirked and looked up at the Grey Wizard. His eyes widened slightly before he smiled down at me.

I felt my heartbeat quicken. This really was happening. Somehow, I had died and gone to Middle Earth. Maybe that happened to some people, or to everyone. Maybe when people wrote books, they created alternate universes where people went when they died. But Gandalf said he had only heard of one person entering Middle Earth from a different world.

I wondered if the girl was from my world. What if she was someone I hated? If I knew her in high school, I probably hated her. I shook the thought from my head and focused on what was happening. I was about to witness the beginning of _The Hobbit_. I had seen the movie way too many times, but I was actually here, watching it. I could feel the sun on my skin. I could smell the Shire and Bilbo's pipe weed. I could hear Gandalf walking next to me. I was there. I tried to keep my breathing under control as I stood in front of Bilbo Baggins with Gandalf. I was standing in front of Bilbo Baggins with Gandalf in front of Bag End in the Shire in Middle-freaking-Earth. _Just act natural, because there's probably a natural way to react to this situation… that would probably be to scream and cry. So just act like you belong._ Gandalf blew at the small smoke ring and it transformed into a butterfly, like in the movie. I smiled as it flew underneath Bilbo's nose and he coughed slightly, clearing it away as he opened his eyes. He took in the sight of a small Asian woman and a tall old man standing before him.

"Good morning," he said carefully. _Belong. Act like you belong._ I smiled and nodded at him. His lips twitched slightly in response.

"What do you mean?" asked Gandalf gruffly. My smile widened. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning, whether I want it to be or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or, are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" Bilbo looked at me with a befuddled expression. I shrugged. This was one of my favorite parts, and I wasn't about to mess it up.

"All of them at once," he said carefully. "I suppose." Gandalf grunted and I smirked. Em had always said Gandalf had hoped for a clever answer, and he didn't like that Bilbo went for the safest response. Bilbo looked at me again as if to ask, "Is he always like this?" I smiled and rolled my eyes a bit. He nodded slightly and it seemed for a moment like he was going to retreat back into his Hobbit hole. Then he turned to Gandalf and asked, "Can I help you?"

"That remains to be seen," the wizard replied. I tried to cover my laugh with a cough. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." Bilbo looked completely scandalized.

"An adventu-?" he repeated. He stood with a laugh and eyed me suspiciously. I held up my hands in an attempt to show I was a fairly neutral party. "I don't imagine that anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures," he continued as he retrieved his mail. "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things, make you late for dinner."

"Being late for any meal is horrible," I agreed. Gandalf gave me a look as if to say, "You're not helping," but I ignored him. Bilbo looked at me with a kind of begrudged respect before looking down at his mail. He made a few noises of appreciation as if to announce that they were letters of great importance. When he looked up and saw that we were still there, he turned and headed back up to his front door.

"Good morning," he said and made to leave. Gandalf wasn't having any of it.

"To think that I should live to be 'good-morning-ed' by Belladonna Took's son!" he said with disgust. Bilbo turned at the mention of his mother. "As if I was selling buttons at the door," scoffed the wizard.

"I beg your pardon?" Bilbo asked.

"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

"I'm sorry," said Bilbo with sudden interest, "but do I know either of you?"

"You know my name," said the old man with a huff, "although you don't remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means... me." Bilbo frowned for a moment before his whole face lit up.

"Not Gandalf the Wandering Wizard who used to make such excellent fireworks?" he said with fervor. "Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve." He laughed a moment before collecting himself. I smiled a little sadly. So this is what happened when his Took side fought with his Baggins side. It was rather disheartening to see him crush his own spirits the way he did. With a cough, he continued speaking, as a Baggins. "I had no idea you were still in business."

Gandalf had been rather flattered at the mention of his fireworks and happy to see Bilbo's Tookishness. I noticed how quickly Bilbo's words put him out again.

"And where else should I be?" he grumbled at the Hobbit. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably before he turned his gaze to me.

"May I ask who this is?" he said and gestured to me. I felt my body grow tense and the color drain from my face. _Act. Natural._

"Oh," Gandalf said and turned to me. "This is… um… this is… I'm sorry, my dear, I have forgotten to ask your name!" Bilbo rolled his eyes at the wizard's lack of manners.

"My name is Bilbo Baggins," he said and strode down the path, his hand outstretched. My breath caught in my throat.

"Blair Yoon," I managed as I took the Hobbit's small hand in mine. _I am shaking the hand of Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo. Baggins. Somebody pinch me. _Bilbo stared at me for a moment and I tried to keep my expression under control. I probably looked like some star struck fan girl. Well, I was, but I definitely didn't want to act like one.

"How did, um, how did you two meet?" he asked.

"On the road," said Gandalf quickly. "Miss Blair here is rather lost."

"Lost?" asked Bilbo. He looked at me with something like a mixture of concern and disapproval.

"I don't have a home anymore," I clarified. I blinked in surprise as the truth of my words hit me. I didn't have anywhere to go. I had no income, no shelter, no real contacts. I had nothing. I blinked again and looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry," said Bilbo sincerely. I nodded. For some reason, a little tuft of grass that was growing in the road was impossibly intriguing.

"Well," said Gandalf, saving me from the spotlight. "I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks. Well that's decided. It'll be very good for you... and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others." I looked up and saw Bilbo stumbling backwards spluttering. He had managed to get up to his porch before he found his voice.

"Inform the- Who? What? No! No!" he protested. "N- wait! We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, not- m- I... suggest you try over the hill or... across the water. Good morning." He opened his door and made to step inside.

"If you won't go on this adventure," called Gandalf, "at least help me with one small thing." Bilbo stopped and looked at the wizard, who sighed deeply. "Please allow this girl to stay in your home for tonight. Just one night!" _Wait, what?_ Bilbo seemed as if he would protest before Gandalf cut him off. "Just one night, until I can find other lodgings for her. It would rather cruel to let her fend for herself in unknown territory." Bilbo looked at me like he was sucking on a lemon. He had a hand on his hip and tapped his foot. He looked so much like my grandmother, it was scary. After a long while, the Hobbit sighed and threw his hands up into the air.

"Fine!" he said. "But just for tonight."

"Oh that's really unnecessary!" I protested. I had been too stunned by Gandalf's request to say anything before. Now… Wait, what was I saying? I had the opportunity to spend the night in Bag End, meeting the Dwarves, meeting _Thorin Oakenshield_. Stupid courtesy. I didn't want to inconvenience Bilbo, but this was a once in a lifetime chance.

"You don't have any money, do you?" asked Bilbo. I blinked.

"Um, no," I replied.

"No relatives or friends?"

"No."

"Well, it appears this is the only option," he said and held his door wide open. I struggled for words. My nerd heart was going to burst. Nothing, _nothing_ compared to how I felt as I walked up the steps and entered Bag End. I glanced back at Gandalf and he nodded. We both knew what he was going to do as soon as the door shut behind me.

* * *

**A/N:** Slow build, guys, slow build. Until we get to the interesting bits, I'll be posting daily, and then once the story picks up it will be weekly. Hey, I only have so much written.

So we see that Blair's an absolute dork... but I am not on her level. I am not fluent in anything but English and while I do love me some Tolkien, I don't have all the lore memorized. If I make a mistake, please call me out on it! (Politely. I have feelings.)

To those who followed, favorited, and/or reviewed, I literally love all of you.


	3. Chapter 2: Party Pooper

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Chapter 2: Party Pooper**

* * *

I was inside Bag End. I was inside Bag End. I was standing in the entrance hall of Bag End. I was in Bilbo Baggins house: Bag End. I was in Bag End. I was there, inside Bag End. I was standing in Bag End. Bag. End. I was inside Bag End. I stood there, in Bag End, in the entrance hall, of Bag End, absorbing the fact that I was really there, in Bag End.

_I am standing in Bag End. I'm really here._

Bilbo stared at me as I stared at everything. I studied the stone tiles on the floor and the paneled walls. I memorized the furniture and decorations. I took in everything I could. I would have been satisfied to stand there longer, but Bilbo coughed and I blinked. I hadn't noticed the tears that were pooling in my eyes. I really was a complete Tolkien nut. Time hadn't erased my love for the story, the characters. I smiled at _the_ Hobbit a little sadly before following him into the kitchen. As I moved, I heard a soft scratching noise and my smile widened. I glanced out the window and saw Gandalf peering through a window at me. He grinned back at me before continuing on his way.

"How long have you been without a home?" asked Bilbo awkwardly as he set out some tea and cake. I sat down and poked a little at the small piece of dessert before me.

"Define home," I sighed. Bilbo scoffed and I realized I sounded like Gandalf. "I'm not trying to be clever. Home can be used for different things. Sometimes it just means a place to stay, but some say, 'Home is where the heart is.'" Bilbo thought about it a moment before nodding.

"Alright," he said. "How long has it been since you've had a place to stay?" Of course, he politely avoided the more personal question.

"Just today," I said. "I was… well, that's a story for another day."

"And the other?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"How long is it since you had a real home?" I blinked and leaned back in the chair. I thought for a while and Bilbo let me sort out my mind.

"I guess… it's been about four years now," I said. "Give or take a few months." Bilbo's eyes filled with sympathy and he placed an extra plate of cakes on the table. I smiled and took one that looked like a cinnamon cake.

"How long have you been at Bag End?" I asked, turning the conversation away from myself.

"My whole life," came the answer I already knew. "It's… it's home for me." I smiled and nodded.

"It's amazing," I said. "It's so inviting and beautiful. I hope I can find a place like it some day." Bilbo smiled at my compliments. I grinned back and took a bite of the cinnamon cake.

"_Just eat it," she said and stuck the forkful of food in my face._

"_No!" I said stubbornly. "It's going to ruin my appetite! I need to save room for dinner!" I gritted my teeth as Emily tried to stab the fork into my mouth despite my protests._

"_Screw your stupid healthy stuff!" she said. "Cinnabon is the food of the gods."_

"_No, it's not! Greek and Roman gods ate ambro-"_

"_I know what the gods ate," she scoffed and tried to shove the piece of dessert into my mouth again. "Just like you knew I was being facetious. Now EAT."_

_I glared at my best friend briefly before opening my mouth slowly. Em and I had been fighting for the better part of ten minutes over whether or not I would eat the cinnamon bun with her. She had worn down my resolve through nagging and carefully getting bits of icing inside of my mouth. The sweet taste had made my willpower crumble and I obediently ate the food she shoved in my mouth. Em watched me with a surprisingly evil smile. I savored the amazing taste. Emily was always getting me to try new things. She liked to, as she put it, help me stick my head out of my shell._

"This is amazing," I said after I swallowed down my bite of cake along with the lump in my throat. I sipped a little tea to calm myself. Bilbo looked at me with concern.

"Thank you," he said. "It's one of my mother's recipes." I smiled sadly and stared at the cake.

"It reminds me of… of my home," I explained. Bilbo nodded. I finished off the cake and moved onto the next piece. This cake wasn't as mouthwatering, but at least it didn't bring up memories of anyone. I finished it off and focused on my tea. I smiled into my cup, remembering the part in _The Hobbit_ where someone asks Gandalf if he wants tea, and he asks for liquor. Then in _The Fellowship_ he asks for, "Just tea, thank you." I sighed contentedly, engulfed in my favorite story. I was happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in a long time. My bubble burst when I remembered what would be coming soon.

"Oh, um, Mr. Baggins?" I said carefully. Bilbo looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes?" he said. He no doubt had caught my tone.

"Um," I tried to figure out the best way to word it. "I think we should prepare a lot of food for tonight." Bilbo blinked at me twice before cocking his head slightly.

"Why?" he asked. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.

"Well, Gandalf is… Gandalf. He's forced one person on you for tonight, and I think he might have interpreted that as an open invitation for… I just think it'd be best to cook up a lot of good food."

"Do you know something?" he asked warily.

"I know Gandalf," I said.

"But you only met this morning."

"He only heard of me this morning. He, however, has a bit of a reputation." Bilbo groaned and rested his head in his hands. I felt bad for him, but I knew that as soon as the first Dwarf started eating I would be laughing my head off. Laughing… well, being in Middle Earth was like therapy; for free, if you didn't count dying and immense pain as a payment.

"Well, how many people do you think Gandalf will be bringing?" he asked from his hands. I thought about that for a moment. Hobbits ate a lot. Dwarves ate a lot. If I simply told Bilbo to expect around thirteen people, would he cook enough? Then again, these Dwarves would be feasting.

"Maybe… sixteen?" I decided. Bilbo lifted his head out of his hands. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish.

"_Sixteen_?" he gasped. I shrugged sheepishly. "I can't fit that many people in my kitchen!"

"We could rearrange the furniture," I suggested.

"No!" Bilbo silenced me with the harshness of his voice.

"It's just a possibility," I said quietly and stared at the table.

_Why are you backing down like this guy has authority over you? He's just a Hobbit! Yeah, but this is his home, and it's Bilbo Baggins. I want to be polite to this guy._

My inner conversation with myself was interrupted by Bilbo sighing. I looked up at him as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"Thank you for the warning," he said. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"It's alright," I said. "I can't blame you for not wanting any more visitors." He smiled a little and made a sound of agreement. He stood and tugged on his suspenders. A grin spread over my face. Bilbo looked like such a Baggins.

"Well, food for sixteen will take a while to make," he said.

"I could help," I suggested. I was pretty good a making amazingly greasy dishes, especially if bacon was involved.

"Oh, I couldn't ask that of you!" he protested. I stood and held a hand up, silencing him.

"Trust me, if I don't help, the others will. And you do _not_ want them in your kitchen." Bilbo looked a little worried, probably because I had used Gandalf's ominous description from earlier: the others. He was right to be concerned. So far, things were following the movie pretty closely. I loved watching the Dwarves throw food and chug ale, but Bilbo would be sick at the sight of them.

"Oh, alright," he said. "What kind of meal do you think they'll want?"

"Can you prepare a feast?" Bilbo gave me a look as if to ask if I had seriously just asked him that question.

"I'm a Hobbit," he answered. I grinned at him and he responded with a proud smirk.

* * *

Exhausted, Bilbo and I sank into two armchairs in his living room. We had cooked enough food to cover two tables. Even then, the plates were crammed together and overlapping. We had each taken a small piece of food and nibbled at it as we gave our sore legs a rest.

"Hobbits sure can feast," I said breathlessly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bilbo smirk as he chuckled.

"That would probably feed two of my cousins and me," he said. "After all that work, I think I could eat all of it."

"I know what you mean," I agreed.

"You made some dishes I've never seen or heard of before," Bilbo mused. I quirked and eyebrow and turned to him.

"Such as?"

"Well, I've never coated pork in bacon."

"Then you have not lived, my friend." Bilbo smiled and finished off the roll he was eating. I bit into the flesh of the apple in my hand, not nearly as fast an eater as the Hobbit. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Bilbo looked at me with wide eyes. I had suspected he didn't fully believe that he would have uninvited visitors. He had probably agreed to cook all the food because he was, after all, a Hobbit. Bilbo stood and walked quickly to the door. I stood and followed him. They had begun to arrive.

Bilbo opened the door and was greeted by a sour looking Dwarf. I grinned at the sight of the bald warrior. He was strong and tall… oh, great, a Dwarf was taller than I was. I had always been short, but that moment was a new all-time low. Dwalin looked from me to Bilbo before bowing.

"Dwalin," he said, "at your service." Bilbo made a little squeaking noise, almost like a hysterical chuckle.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours," he responded. Dwalin straightened up and looked at me expectantly.

"Oh! Um," I said and bowed awkwardly. "Blair Yoon, at your service." Dwalin grunted and entered the house. He tossed his cloak and weapons into my arms before heading down the hall. I stood there with a stupid look on my face, trying to understand what had just happened. Carefully, I hung up Dwalin's cloak and set down his axe before following Bilbo and him to the kitchen.

"Is it down here?" he called.

"Is what down where?" asked Bilbo.

"Ah, I see that it is." Bilbo looked at me incredulously as the Dwarf proceeded to settle down at the table and stuff his face noisily. I shrugged and found I couldn't keep a smile from appearing on my face. Bilbo looked disgusted at the noises coming from Dwalin. I heard a crunch and wondered if he had bitten a fish's head off like he had in the movie. Judging by Bilbo's expression, he had.

"Drink," grumbled Dwalin in my direction. I looked at him and then at Bilbo.

_Does he think I'm a servant?_ I mouthed. Bilbo shrugged and walked away to get Dwalin a mug of ale from the keg we had brought out earlier. Dwalin looked at me with raised brows as he shoved a biscuit in his mouth.

"Are you the lady of the house then?" he asked. I shook my head. "Servant?"

"No," I sighed.

"What are you then?"

"A female," I replied sarcastically. Then I explained, "Gandalf wanted me here." Dwalin looked like he was about to say something, but Bilbo chose that moment to place the ale in front of his guest. Dwalin forgot his words and gulped the drink loudly. Bilbo looked at me with disbelief and I smiled again.

_It's about to get a lot worse_, I silently warned him. The door bell rang and the Hobbit's eyes bulged. I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing.

"That'll be the door," announced Dwalin. Bilbo scurried off to let the next Dwarf in. I smiled fondly. I knew it was Balin.

"Oh!" said a new voice followed by a laugh. Balin strode into the room and towards Dwalin, who stood at the sound of his brother's voice. "Evening, brother!"

"By my beard!" exclaimed Dwalin with a chuckle. "You're shorter and wider than last we met!"

"Wider, not shorter," corrected the older Dwarf. "Sharp enough for both of us." He winked at his brother before they laughed together. I mentally prepared myself for what was going to happen. I could do this. I could keep it together. They grabbed each other and head-butted just in time for Bilbo to see. I could hear him sputtering beside me as I held in my laughter. I should have received an award for keeping myself under control.

"Ah, excuse me," said Bilbo, "sorry, I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is… I'm not entirely sure… you're in the r-right house." Balin and Dwalin proceeded to ignore everything their host said, instead focusing on the food and alcohol. I leaned against a wall and watched with great amusement as Bilbo followed them around, offering explanations and apologies. Just as Balin accepted an apology, the door rang.

"I'll get it," I told Bilbo. I tried to remember who came next as I approached the door. For the life of me, I couldn't figure it out. I opened the small green door and it revealed two young Dwarves.

_Are you kidding me? Are they all going to be this tall? They're not supposed to be tall,_ I thought as I took in the sight of Fili and Kili.

"Good evening, miss," said Fili as he stepped forward. He took hold of my hand and kissed it lightly. I raised my eyebrows.

"Evening," I said. He entered the house with a cheeky grin on his face. What a charmer.

"Fili, at your service," he continued before following the smell of food. Another hand wrapped itself around mine and I turned to see Kili kissing my hand.

"Kili, at your service, miss," he said with a wink. I smiled mischievously at the legendary "sexy dwarf".

"Blair, at yours," I replied before we both headed towards the food. We reached Bilbo and Fili just as the blonde Dwarf told Bilbo to be careful with his weapons.

"It's nice," said Kili as he examined Bag End, "this place. Did you do it yourself?"

"Er, eh, no, it's been in the family for years," stammered Bilbo. His tone changed completely when he saw Kili wiping the mud off of his boots and onto an old chest. "That's my mother's glory box! Can you please not do that?"

"Is this your wife?" asked Fili as he pointed at me.

"No," Bilbo and I answered at once. "Gandalf wanted me here," I continued. The brothers looked as if they were going to ask a flood of questions, but Dwalin thumped into the hall.

"Fili, Kili," he said and grabbed a hold of the younger Dwarf. "Come on, help us start this feast."

"Mr. Dwalin," said Kili, with a kind of reverence. I almost smiled, but I was getting out of my comfort zone. Despite living in New York, I was rarely around crowds. I didn't lead a double life like in comic books. I spent all my spare time training to fight, to stay alive. The rest of it was spent in the shadows. I was never very outgoing, but after four years of very little interaction with groups other than fighting them, I wasn't going to be the life of the party. I stood off to the side and watched as the four Dwarves appraised the meal before them. I noticed how Balin and Kili seemed set on the bacon-covered pork. I felt a little smug as I heard the doorbell ring for the last time that night. Bilbo looked at me with despair and I tried to smile reassuringly at him.

"That should be the last of them," I said. He groaned and headed off to open the door. A small smile spread over my face as I heard the Dwarves yelling and falling into Bag End. The rowdy bunch poured into the kitchen, followed by a rather happy Gandalf and a sour Bilbo. The Dwarves all started yelling and fighting to get at the food before sitting down. They didn't try to be any quieter. I sat on the right at the end of the table and watched everyone interact. They were all close friends, catching up after the years. Slowly, I felt the high of being in Bag End leave me. It was hard seeing everyone else so happy, so familiar. My lonely thoughts were interrupted by Kili walking across the table with mugs of ale in his hands. The Dwarves laughed and threw a few things at him before he reached his seat and hid from their attacks. He passed the mugs to his brother and Bomber.

"Bottoms up, lads!" someone called, and they proceeded to chug their drinks. It was at that moment, a moment that had me giggling in the theater, that I felt completely alone. Just watching them drink at once… it was like they were all united, all bound by their friendship and loyalty. And there I was, hunched over an empty plate while I sipped at some water. I felt utterly empty. Gandalf, who was sitting close by, noticed me. I willed him to be distracted. I didn't want to hear him asking me if I was alright. I saw him open his mouth, and whatever he had planned to say was cut off by a chorus of burps. Gandalf looked a little taken aback by the noises, but his eyes looked like they would fall out of his head as Ori let out the loudest belch I had heard in ages. I couldn't help but smirk a little, but the void inside me quickly consumed my amusement. I hated getting like this. It always happened when I was still for too long. I had to keep myself busy, training or fighting. If my mind wasn't occupied, it became very dark. The Dwarves laughed heartily and it made the emptiness even more painful than before.

I noticed the Dwarves getting up and gathering up their plates. I watched Gandalf and Bilbo argue as Ori approached the Hobbit with his plate. I sighed and pulled my hood up. I wasn't in the mood for their inevitable song. I watched as plates flew around and listened to their cheerful singing. I smirked. If I had been in a better mood, I would have joined in. Em and I had always loved to sing. Of course, I had to go and think of her. She would have been singing at the top of her lungs and laughing at Bilbo's face. Instead, I was there, silently watching everyone.

Then, a sound echoed through Bag End. Someone was knocking heavily on the door. Everyone fell silent. Gandalf stood.

"He's here," he said.

* * *

**A/N:** Aw poor Blair. Guess every vigilante has to start somewhere, and the traditional beginning is to loose everything you love. Maybe you'll find out the whole story later... But slow build going on here, guys. Patience.

New POV next chapter! I wonder who's eyes we'll see through next? (I'm about as subtle as a firework in your face wow.)

To my new follows/favorites: I am so happy to see you here. I am so thankful for all of you.

**ShannonTheAwesomeOne:** You truly are awesome oh my goodness you beautiful person. I cannot thank you enough for your lovely reviews. I hope this newest chapter is to your liking!

**PassiveResistance:** If my OC seems capable of standing alone in the story with no romance at all... I have done my job. Thank you so much. I haven't seen Kick Ass, but hey, if the hero is like Blair maybe I should check that out. Wouldn't it be interesting if Blair got stuck in Middle Earth with... well, no use in giving away everything, am I right? All shall be revealed eventually.

**xSiriuslyPadfoot:** When I first came up with the idea of Blair, I was trying to figure out how a girl from our world could hold her own in Middle Earth. I figured she'd have to be a Tolkien fan, maybe to the extreme. And then I thought about all the OCs I had read about and I realized that most of them look the same: you know, the pretty long hair and intense colorful eyes and all that. So I was like, "Well, I have an opportunity here to do something different." And thus I decided that she should be an Asian American Tolkien fan who was able to fight so darn well because she spend four years of her life being a vigilante in New York. I literally was trying very hard to break the mold with this girl, so I'm really really happy that you see that in her!

**RozaLove:** Thank you so much! Hey, would you look at that, your wait is over! You'll definitely be seeing more of dorky Blair! Pretty much every time they end up in a new place, she gets her dork on.

Just to give you a visual on Blair, I found out that Miss Korea 2000, Kim Sa-rang, is pretty much exactly how I pictured her. She's almost always cute and smiley, but this one picture I just needed to have a moment because I was like, "This is it. This is Blair."

Please, keep reviewing! Feedback is most appreciated!


	4. Chapter 3: Fight! Fight! Fight!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Chapter 3: Fight! Fight! Fight!**

* * *

"Gandalf," I said with a nod. I entered the Hobbit hole and continued, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door." I began to pull off my cape as a small man with a mop of curly hair wearing a white shirt and breeches approached.

"Mark?" he asked. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark," answered the wizard. "I put it there myself." I shook my head. Of course, he had destroyed the man's property without consulting him. The small creature, the Hobbit, glared at Gandalf and was met with a fond smile. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield." I looked the Hobbit up and down. He had the build of a family man, not of a warrior, or even a burglar.

"So," I said and took a step forward, "this is the Hobbit." The burglar looked a little unsettled and I smirked in amusement. I began to circle him to see if I could get him even more uncomfortable. It was more than effective. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins," I said as I walked, "have you done much fighting?" _No_.

"Pardon me?" he asked. _Definitely no._

"Axe or sword is your weapon of choice?" I teased. He smiled nervously before an expression of pride came to his face.

"Well," he said, "I do have some skill in conkers, if you must know, but I… fail to see why that's… relevant." I smirked again.

"Thought as much," I said, and added as I glanced over my shoulder at my nephews, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." My little joke was met with laughter from everyone but the Hobbit.

I followed my companions to the food. They had already eaten most of it, but there was a pot of stew left over. Just as well. I had no appetite that night. As I settled down and Bofur poured me a bowl of the stew, I noticed something to my right. It took me a moment to realize it was a hooded figure rather than a mass of black cloth.

"Gandalf," I called. "I did not know you brought a guest." Who else would have brought someone outside the decided company? The person could have been the Hobbit's friend, but I doubted any other Hobbit would have stayed in the company of my Dwarves for long.

"Ah, yes," said the wizard as he settled down in a chair to my left. "About that…" A small, slender hand appeared and pushed the hood back. I found myself at a loss for words. It was a woman. A woman with strange, dark eyes that seemed to be staring straight through me. She looked at me as if she knew me, and I found myself strangely uncomfortable under her gaze. I noted her expression with confusion. It was a look I had seen on countless Dwarves, some Men, and even a few Elves. Cold and dark, she had the look of a warrior.

"My name is Blair," she said, her accent unlike any I had heard. "Blair Yoon." I shook my surprise quickly and turned to glare at the wizard.

"Why have you brought her here?" I asked. Gandalf smiled sheepishly as he lit his pipe.

"She fell from the sky in front of me as I was coming to this place," he said calmly. "I assumed it was a sign that she should join the company." Everyone stared at the strange-eyed woman as a slight blush rose under her skin. I raised an eyebrow at her, only partially doubting Gandalf's account. I had heard stranger tales regarding the wizard.

"And do you fall out of the sky often?" I asked. She smiled humorlessly and shrugged.

"Dunno," she replied. "It's the first time I've died, to my knowledge."

"But… what?" said the startled burglar.

"You're alive," said Ori slowly.

"I shouldn't be," said Blair quietly. I stared hard at her, trying to understand what she and Gandalf were talking about as the Dwarves whispered to each other. I hadn't heard anything stranger than that in regards to Gandalf or any other being in Middle Earth.

"Would you care to explain what happened?" I asked as evenly as I could. Blair eyed me for a moment before standing and pulling at the collar of her shirt. I watched, baffled as the woman pulled her shirt down her chest. A few Dwarves gasped, Fili and Kili chuckled, and Bilbo and Ori began spluttering. What she revealed astonished even Gandalf. There was a massive scar on her chest, right over her heart. The scar was large and ugly, discoloring her pale skin. It looked almost as if flaming arrow had pierced her chest. She looked down at her scar and seemed rather impressed with the mark. Then she looked at each Dwarf with her strange eyes, finally resting on me.

"I'm not from this world," she said. "Where I come from, there are no Elves, no wizards, no Hobbits. I was trying to kill the leader of group that had terrorized my city for almost three decades, but his men found me. They chased me, and I almost escaped, but… someone I… well, I got shot." She covered up her scar again and sat down. She sighed and hunched down in her chair. "I'm assuming you can see that there's no way I survived. I remember dying, but here I am." I could tell she wasn't lying. Her strange looks and accent were otherworldly, and she could not have recovered from such an injury. But it seemed almost too impossible to believe.

"Why are you here?" I asked. She looked at me a frowned.

"What do you mean?" I scoffed.

"I mean, how did you get here? I have never heard of anyone dropping out of the sky claiming they had died."

"Well, I have," said Gandalf with a huff. Of course he had. "And it just so happens that the person who said they came from a different world is located along the path to Ere-"

"Gandalf!" I interrupted sharply and glared at the wizard. How could he mention our quest in front of an outsider?

"I know about Erebor," said Blair. I turned to her with wide eyes. That was impossible. "I know about Smaug and the portents and the treasure and everything. Don't worry. I'm not here to take your gold. I'm just… here."

"I believe that Blair should accompany you," said Gandalf before I could take in what the woman had just said. "There is a person from her world that lives in Mirkwood. You won't have to enter it with her," he said quickly after he noticed the look I gave him. "Just take her with you. She may even prove to be helpful to you. She seems able to fight, and has some knowledge that may prove to be useful." A few of the Dwarves murmured at this, but Dwalin gave a short dark laugh.

"Able to fight?" he scoffed. "This little lass? Yes, she has a scar, but I doubt she could hold her own against an Orc." There were nods and sounds of assent. I watched Blair out of the corner of my eye as Dwalin spoke. She ground her teeth and glared daggers at him. When she heard the others agree with him, a wild look entered her eyes and she stood.

"Would you like to step outside, Master Dwarf?" she said coolly. I couldn't keep the smirk off of my face. Was she really inviting him to fight her? Dwalin seemed thoroughly amused at the idea.

"And do what, lass?" he prodded. An alarming smile spread over her lips.

"Bring your weapons," she said and strode out of the room.

"She actually thinks she has a chance?" laughed Bofur.

"It appears she does," I said and stood. Our company flooded into the front garden with the Hobbit protesting a fight that might wake the neighbors. Dwalin was spinning his axes in his hands as he stood in the middle of the dirt road. Blair stood opposite him, watching him wield his weapons. At that moment, I felt a pang of worry for the young woman. Dwalin was almost a head taller than her, and probably three times as thick. He was an expert with his axes and knew how to deal very permanent damage. Blair looked so small and frail in comparison. As I looked between them, I realized something that caused my small concern to grow. She had no weapon.

"Fili," I called and my nephew approached me. "Give the woman a sword." He moved to retrieve one of his swords from the house when a voice reached us.

"I don't need a sword."

* * *

I really didn't need a sword. I had my knives, not that I'd use them either, but they didn't know that. In a fight of this sort, I considered sharpened weapons a hindrance. I would have had to move slower so I didn't cause any real damage.

At this point, I had observed Dwalin's strengths and weaknesses. He was strong and skilled. The way he handled his axes displayed familiarity, and I remembered that he had been a warrior for many years. He had fought countless times and survived. His weapons helped to intimidate, but not significantly. His build could be used against him. If I could get him off balance, that would give me the opening I needed. His weapons were a weakness. They were meant to harm, to kill, and he wished to do neither. They could be used to throw him off balance, or if I knocked them out of his hands it could stun him briefly. The darkness was a weakness. There was a slight glow from the windows of Bag End so we could see well enough, but I was wearing all black and had been fighting at night for the better part of four years. Dwalin's greatest weakness was his ignorance. He was unused to my style of fighting and it would take him a few precious moments to adjust. He didn't know about my knives. A few of them were small enough to enter a body without causing much harm, simply disable it. Best of all, he completely underestimated me.

* * *

I stared at Blair, completely bewildered. How could she refuse a weapon? She was so small and slight that it would have been her only advantage. I thought for a moment that perhaps she didn't know how to use one, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Something about her tone when she claimed to not require assistance made me believe her. The others chuckled or grumbled at her words. Dwalin laughed loudly.

"Ready, lass?" asked the old warrior. Blair rolled her eyes and looked at each member of the company. When her gaze landed on something behind me, she smiled reassuringly. I looked over my shoulder and saw the Hobbit, shaking and looking on in horror. I turned back to her and she looked at me as if to say, "Just watch."

* * *

"Are you?" I asked calmly as I looked back at Dwalin. He laughed again.

"Ready," he said and came at me, swinging his axes.

* * *

The Hobbit behind me squeaked in fright as Dwalin charged at the woman from another world. Someone, likely Gandalf, hushed him. I could feel Balin and Fili tense beside me. I was worried as Dwalin raised his axe as he neared Blair, but I found that I was not worried for her.

* * *

The look on Dwalin's face, so confident that he would win, infuriated me. Despite my anger, my blood remained cool and my heartbeat even. It had taken long nights, heavy concentration, and lots of training, but I had learned to control myself. I would save my energy for later, when I needed it.

* * *

Dwalin swung his axe and Blair disappeared. Dwalin only had time to frown before she reappeared, so close to him that he flinched away.

* * *

I grinned at Dwalin's surprised expression. I quickly gripped the back of his leg, hooked one of my legs behind his other leg, and positioned my hand on his chest. As I pulled on his leg, I pushed my hand on his chest and pulled back my leg, and he fell loudly onto his back. Before he had time to respond, I was on top of him with my hands positioned on his head. I twisted his neck so that his ear was facing me and I leaned down to it.

"Snapped your neck," I said quietly.

* * *

No one moved except Blair as she stepped away from Dwalin. He hadn't even moved his head since she had tilted it before whispering something in his ear. The rest of us simply stared at the scene before us in dumbfounded silence. I had never, ever seen Dwalin lying on the ground in defeat before landing a single blow. Slowly, he recovered and gathered up his axes and what was left of his pride. He turned to Blair and nodded his head.

"I misjudged ye, lass," he apologized. "I'd say you could hold your own against an Orc." Blair blinked and breathed deeply.

"I believe you could as well," she said with a small smile. Dwalin nodded slightly and returned to the group. As he reached us, Fili stepped forward.

"I'll have a go at you," he said. The woman raised an eyebrow at him. A few of the Dwarves sniggered. Balin leaned towards me and whispered, "He just wants her to climb on top of him the way she did to Dwalin just now." I nodded in agreement. Kili would probably ask her to fight next. They had a weakness for anything beautiful. I blinked, bewildered by my own thoughts. Was this woman truly beautiful?

* * *

"You sure you want to?" I asked Fili. Something about the look in his eye made me suspicious. I supposed this would be a different kind of fight. The blonde Dwarf smirked and nodded.

"Quite sure, miss," he said and headed back to his house to get his swords. I looked at the other Dwarves and tried to guess what was going on based on their reactions. Bofur and Bomber were giggling with each other. Balin was whispering to Thorin, who was staring intently at me. I looked away quickly and my eyes found Bilbo. He looked like he didn't believe what he had just seen. Again, I smiled and nodded to the Hobbit, trying to reassure him. He blinked and shook his head as if to clear it. When he focused on me again, he looked like he couldn't decide whether to disapprove of my actions or cheer for them. I glanced at Gloin, who was muttering something in Oin's hearing aid. Oin let out a short laugh before realizing I was watching them. I raised an eyebrow, but Fili came out of the house with his swords in his hands and drew my attention away from them.

"Sure you don't want a sword this time?" he teased and held one out to me as he reached me. I gave a wicked smile.

"Trust me, you'll need both," I retorted. He smirked and positioned himself a few feet away. He really did need both weapons. If he was skilled enough to handle them, it would give him an advantage. Still, I had my knives, I had the night, and he wasn't used to my fighting. He hadn't been a warrior as long as Dwalin, but he now knew to be careful about me.

* * *

I watched in wonder as my nephew and the woman danced around one another. Fili swung his swords carefully, not allowing her to get too close, for the time being. Blair moved out of the way, disappearing into the shadows and reappearing.

Occasionally she would move towards him, but he would respond and she would become invisible again. After a small smile to his brother, I knew Fili was about to let her close, just to see what would happen. He let his guard down and Blair reappeared, but she did not move in on Fili.

* * *

That little bastard. He let his guard down just to let me win. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. He was too good to let it happen naturally. I hadn't been looking for an opening at first. I had been studying his moves, seeing how he fought. He fought well, but now I knew what the fight was about.

I wasn't totally naïve. I knew what Fili was playing at. I would have loved to knock him on his back and just let him lie there, but I had different plans. The Dwarven prince was going to be put in his place on my terms.

* * *

Blair disappeared into the shadows again and Fili blinked in surprise. I smirked and turned to Balin.

"She knows what he's up to," I said. Balin chuckled.

"Aye," he said. "She really does know how to fight. If I had to, I think I'd bet on her to win even if your nephew wasn't going to let it happen." I clenched my jaw at Balin's remark.

"You think her better than a son of Durin?" I asked harshly.

"Judge for yourself," replied the elder Dwarf.

* * *

I stayed hidden in the shadows, hoping to put Fili on edge. I crept around him silently as he turned and looked for me. I smiled and stood behind him. I quickly tapped him on the shoulder and disappeared again. He looked unsettled and peered into the darkness, occasionally swinging one of his swords. I was careful to avoid them. He had kept the sheaths on them for my safety, but if he managed to land a blow, I'd lose.

* * *

The woman kept up the game for a few minutes. She'd materialize near Fili just to poke or tap him before hiding in the darkness again. I saw what she was doing. She was trying to frustrate Fili into attempting to fight her. I had to admire her sense of honor. Fili didn't seem to share my appreciation. A scowl began to form on his face and he began to put more force into his blind swings. He growled, and that seemed to be all the Blair needed.

She stood right in front of him, and in the next moment he was lying on the ground with her sitting on his chest. Her legs were spread open and her feet had his hands pinned down, keeping him from defending himself. She had something pressed against his throat, and I realized that she had been armed the entire time.

* * *

I smirked into Fili's face. He had clearly not expected that. After his shock wore off and my position registered in his mind, a playful smile spread over his face.

"I think I could get used to this," he said with a little effort, since I was in fact sitting on his lungs. I leaned forward and smiled.

"I don't think you could handle it," I said. His eyes lit up with amusement and he gave a breathy laugh. I smiled and removed myself from his chest.

* * *

I was baffled to say the least. I thought that Blair would have been angered by Fili's antics. Most respectable women turned down my nephews' attentions quickly. I had no doubt that Blair was worthy of respect, but she had just… she had even joked… As Fili returned, I noticed he was walking a little awkwardly and I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. I had to admit, that because of the position he had been in, his response was natural, but he had no shame in his expression. I was about to say something to him when Kili stepped forward and approached Blair.

Why did my nephews have such little self control?

* * *

I rolled my eyes as the Kili came forward, the same smile on his face as Fili's. He no doubt intended to get something to fantasize about later. I didn't really, so long as I got to kick their asses.

"Think you stand a chance?" I asked.

"Not at all," he responded and pulled his sheathed sword from his belt. I smiled at him and readied myself. Kili stepped forward and moved to stab at my middle, but I quickly danced out of the way. Before he could change his position, I grabbed his wrist and flipped him onto his back. I positioned myself above him and pressed my knife to his throat. Kili looked up at me, slightly dazed. I leaned down and put my mouth next to his ear.

"Looks like you were right," I whispered.

* * *

I found it difficult to look at my younger nephew as Blair whispered into his ear. He grinned stupidly, his thoughts plain on his face as the woman pushed herself off of him. He walked back to us, a shameless smile on his face as he nodded to his brother. I looked back at Blair. She had defeated Dwalin, one of my finest warriors, with complete ease, and had reduced my nephews to a pair of giggling miscreants.

I grew angry at the thought of the line of Durin behaving in such a manner. I knew I should have forced them to fight her again and regain some semblance of dignity, but I doubted that they would truly obey. They would simply repeat their actions. I growled in the back of my throat and stepped forward.

* * *

I was about to rejoin the group and head back inside when someone blocked my path. Thorin was standing there, glaring down at me. I blinked and stood there, stupidly staring back at him. What was his problem? Why was he looking at me like that? What was he doing? Then it hit me.

_Aw, hell, I'm going to have to fight Thorin Oakenshield._

* * *

**A/N:** Yay, Thorin's POV! And Blair's! And the separations between the POVs looked so much better in my Word doc than they do here... Oh well. And now we see different aspects of Miss Blair's personality, along with her ever-present badassness.

She's going to fight Thorin? How is that going to play out? Who will win? Find out... **next week**? I might post it early, if you ask nicely. (I am so subtle wow how ever shall you pick up what I am laying down?)

**xSiriuslyPadfoot:** Ah yes. Perfection is boring. Blair is far from perfect. She's not always going to be nice and sweet and sometimes resorts to violence... I mean I guess you picked up on that in this chapter. And she got to meet Thorin (yay!) like you wanted, but I'm guessing this isn't exactly the ending you had in mind.


	5. Chapter 4: This Could End Badly

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Chapter 4: This Could End Badly**

* * *

"Master Fili?" I called. "I think I'll take that sword now." No one laughed at me this time. They knew that there was nothing funny about a duel with Thorin. I was about to duel Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, who had fought and defeated Azog, a freaking enormous Orc, and hundreds of other stupid creatures that dared attack him after that. Thorin Oakenshield, who was pretty much glaring at me. I didn't dare look away. I would probably lose the duel. I was definitely going to lose the duel, but the least I could do was win a staring contest, even if I was shaking in my boots. Even as Fili stepped forward and handed me one of his swords, I did not look away from Thorin's icy stare.

Thorin smirked and walked away, breaking our eye contact. He had let me win, something he wasn't likely to do again. As he unbuckled his sword and sheath, I got the feeling that this was about honor. I hadn't really fought the others. Dwalin didn't know I could do more than just dodge an attack, and Fili and Kili had let me win. Thorin was reclaiming the integrity of the group while giving me a chance to show what I was really made of. Unfortunately, I was hardly the stuff of legends.

I tried to figure out all of Thorin's strengths and weaknesses. He was stronger and bigger than I was, just as Dwalin had been. He was an expert swordsman, a survivor, and he knew to not underestimate me. He had armor and I had a hoodie. He knew about my knives and he had observed the way I fought three times. I had taken the sword as an attempt to throw him off, hoping he wouldn't know what to expect now that I had a new weapon, but Fili's sword was so different from the swords I was used to. They were precision instruments. That's what Master drilled into our heads. Precision. But that only worked because of the design of the swords. I hefted the weapon in my hand, feeling its weight and balance. Fili's sword was good for hacking and slashing, delivering heavy blows. Still, it would help to block Thorin's attacks.

I tried to come up with something that gave me an advantage over Thorin. The darkness? No. He wouldn't go hunting for me. He'd let me come to him, because he knew I couldn't creep off into the night forever. What gave me the upper hand here?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The only chance I had was if I got close enough to use my body against him... That sounded wrong. Maybe I could take out his legs or put a knife to his throat. It was highly unlikely that I would have such luck, but I would take full advantage of it if I did.

* * *

"Ready?" I asked calmly, my eyes fixed on hers. Blair's eyes shifted from studying my weapon and armor to my face. She looked deadly, but there was fear behind her eyes. I smirked and the fear left, replaced by irritation. She shrugged and positioned herself in a defensive pose. She expected, or hoped, that I would strike first.

"As I'll ever be," she replied with a playful tone.

* * *

Thorin came at me quickly, his sword flying and his eyes blazing. Meant to intimidate. More than effective. The sheathed blades met with a dull thud that stung my hands. I backed up quickly; or rather Thorin drove me back in a relentless onslaught. My attention was divided between keeping my footing and parrying Thorin's attacks. At this rate, I was sure to slip up and lose within the first minute.

Desperately, I pushed his sword back as well as I could and dove to the side. I felt the tip of Thorin's sword connect with the bone of my ankle. I winced as I frantically rolled out of the way. Thorin followed and didn't give me so much as a moment to stand. I rolled once and his sword hit the ground. A second time and it was closer still. By the third time it was getting old, but if I stopped I would have a bruised ego and ribs to match. I feinted grabbing one of my knives and pretended to throw it. Thorin raised his sword to block the attack as I stood. He realized in half a second there was no attack. As if I was going to throw a knife in his face. This was a mildly friendly duel, after all.

* * *

Blair was a good fighter, when she finally attacked. Her movements were practiced, but wrong for the sword in her hand. Perhaps it was the sword that was wrong for her.

Her technique was quick and straightforward, and I noticed that her movements naturally moved upwards. I remembered that she was not actually a Dwarf, but of the race of Man. She was used to fighting taller opponents. Perhaps someday she _could_ kill an Orc, but it would do little to help her against me.

* * *

He was just too damn short. If he was taller, no problem. I always fought tall guys. If you're hiring muscle, you want them to be intimidating, so most of them were anywhere from two to two-and-a-half feet taller than me. Climb them like a tree and slit their throats. That method was null and void if the person was only a few inches taller than you. It didn't help that his guard was impenetrable. Still, I gave myself a mental pat on the back for holding out as long as I had.

* * *

I stepped back to give Blair a moment's pause. I moved to circle her, but she mirrored my footsteps, her dark eyes on the sheathed blade in my hand. I noted the way she held Fili's sword. Her arms were only slightly lowered. I glanced down at her legs. Her steps were sure and stable. She had endurance, enough to not be entirely helpless.

* * *

I attacked first this time, even though there was no opening. Thorin was far too experienced to do anything so stupid, but why delay the inevitable? I aimed for the base of the blade, hoping to at least weaken his grip. I knew it wasn't going to happen easily, if at all, but it was worth a shot.

Thorin seemed completely unaffected by my attacks. He stabbed forward and hit the flat of my blade. It threw me for a split second and with lightening speed he stabbed again. I ducked and saw something that resembled an opening.

I kicked upwards, aiming for his hand. Thorin saw my movement and withdrew his attack. I growled at my failure. It would have worked on someone with less experience, but Thorin had strong instincts, sharp eyes, and quick reflexes.

Thorin smirked at the noise I made as he began circling me again. I didn't like it. I didn't like the way he looked at me when he did that. I felt like a deer being sized up by a wolf. Maybe that was exactly what was happening.

* * *

Blair's arms were tiring. She fought well, but her weapon of choice was a knife, and that made all the difference. The unfamiliar weight was a hindrance to her, and I intended to exploit that.

Once again, I attacked her unremittingly, leaving no room for her to rest and regain her stability. She looked annoyed by my method and I smirked. In my moment of distraction, the blades locked and I found myself in a test of strength. Blair's brow furrowed as her arms began to shake. I smiled and pushed harder, pleased by the give in her elbows.

"Had enough?" I teased. Blair's gaze shifted from our locked weapons to me and I was taken aback by the rage in her eyes. She smirked and leaned forward slightly, as if she was about to say something, before I felt her knee connect with my elbow.

Our weapons were freed and she moved back quickly. I could feel that her arms were nearly spent as our blades met again and again. I focused on delivering heavy blows, and I was rewarded by the sight of her guard falling apart.

Our swords met once more and her arms gave out. I raised my sword to strike her, victory within reach, but she dove away again. She was better using her body than a sword. I thought briefly of my nephews and decided I would never voice that opinion.

When Blair stood upright, I noticed she could barely hold the sword aloft. She noticed as well, and released another low growl before tossing the weapon towards its owner. I saw Fili retrieve it out of the corner of my eye, but focused on Blair as she pulled her sheathed knife from her belt.

Her eyes held a dangerous and desperate look. She knew she was going to lose. Her knife would do her little good, especially since her arms were slowed from exhaustion, but she chose to fight to the end all the same. I respected her sense of honor. Or perhaps it was simply stubbornness.

I swung at an angle towards her throat. She used the downward force of the stroke to push it away from her with her knife as she darted to the side. She moved towards me, attempting to get close and use her weapon. I stepped back as she slashed at my throat. She aimed to stab at my chest, but the flat of my sword met the tip of her knife. As she withdrew her arm, I raised my leg and kicked her squarely in the stomach. She grunted as she fell back. I was on her in seconds but she responded quickly.

I stabbed at her chest and she used the hilt of her knife to knock my sword to the side. She deflected a slash to her stomach as she backed up, desperation and fury written clearly on her face. I moved to strike again, and as she lifted her knife to meet my attack, it was obvious she wouldn't make it. I paused a moment before the tip of my blade hit her stomach to avoid injuring her.

"Fuck."

I blinked.

She blinked.

Absolute shock settled over the present company as the word echoed in our memories. Blair looked at me with a confused expression, as if she wasn't quite sure who had spoken the word. I could scarcely believe it myself, but it had happened all the same.

Blair began stammering as if she was trying to take it back. Perhaps she realized it was generally considered improper to curse in front of a king. In fact, was improper for a woman to curse at any time.

It was somehow comical enough to make me laugh.

* * *

I didn't get it at first. I had been prepared to be scolded, yelled at, even to have my throat cut for disrespecting the Dwarf king. Instead, he was laughing. Thorin Oakenshield was laughing. He had briefly chuckled earlier, but this was a real knee-slapper laugh. He threw his head back and everything. When he had finished, he lowered his head and smiled at me. His smile made me feel a bit lighter somehow. I returned the expression nervously and he nodded reassuringly.

"Let us return to the house," he said. "There is business to discuss." He turned and headed back inside, myself and the company following him. A few of the Dwarves clapped me on the back and complimented my fighting, despite the fact that I literally ended up on my ass. I absolutely refused to look at Fili and Kili. I knew that they were looking at me, but I would not give them the satisfaction of my attention again. I had to cling to what was left of my pride.

We settled around the tables again in our original seats. I felt a little awkward sitting next to Thorin, but he looked like he was still laughing on the inside. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Bilbo. He looked like he was going to go into shock. I nearly snorted. I had forgotten that he was there. He wasn't used to that kind of language. I bet that the worst word that had ever come out of his mouth had been "adventure."

I was slightly dazed by what had just happened. I had just dueled Thorin Oakenshield. That had happened, because things like that happened to people. I doubted this was what my grandmother had in mind when she told me learning to defend myself would come in handy someday. Well, she hadn't exactly said that. It was more like, "Blair, there are so many people in this world that need to be taught a harsh lesson: fools get their asses handed to them." She was an interesting lady.

I folded my arms tightly over my chest as I thought of my family. I pushed away their memories, but my mother's smile kept flashing behind my eyes. She smiled a lot around my dad. They were so in love it was disgusting. Grandma liked to throw things at them when the kissed and grumble in Korean about how in her day couples were respectful and private. Sissy would… no. No, I wasn't going to think about them anymore. I gnawed at the inside of my cheek and focused on the pain in my mouth rather than the gaping hole in my chest. They were dead and gone, just like Em, just like me.

I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, barely aware of the conversation happening around me. I was wearing myself out, thinking about my family and then thinking about dying. Oddly enough, it hadn't seemed like that big of a deal at the time. It still didn't seem that bad. Maybe that was because I wasn't dead-dead. I was still alive, in a way. I had to be, right? I opened my eyes and stared at the table, briefly taking notice of the map that Gandalf had laid out before me. What if this was just reincarnation gone wrong? What if I would just keep changing from one story to the next, a never-ending cycle of pain? My own personal hell. After all the shit I had gone through, oblivion wasn't that bad. I hadn't been a perfect person, but staying alive forever… that seemed rough. But why be in my favorite story if this was hell?

I was taken out of my thoughts by a shout from Thorin. I realized that the company had been arguing loudly and their leader had just silenced them. I sat back and waited for Thorin to speak.

"If we have read these signs do you not think others will have read them too?" He wasn't even addressing me and I felt like a child being chastised. I could see in his face how serious, how real this was to him. Holy _shit_ this was real and he was real. How was any of this real? I shook my head to clear it. Heaven or hell or something in between, whatever. All I could do was focus on what was in front of me and deal with it.

"Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected." _No. No, not exactly._ "Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"

I sat back, slightly amazed. Sitting there, in Bag End, listening to the King Under the Mountain speak so passionately about reclaiming his home, had moved something inside of me. I knew his speech was meant to inspire his Dwarven followers, but it had somehow struck a cord with me. Maybe it was because I hungered for a home, or for an adventure. Maybe it was just me being a geek and getting way too into it. Yeah, that was probably the case, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I wanted to go. I wanted to help them regain the Lonely Mountain.

* * *

I watched as my men raised their fists and made passionate declarations. My words had had the effect I had hoped for, and more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blair raise her head and listen intently. I risked a glance and saw her eyes filled with strange emotions I couldn't quite read.

"You forget the Front Gate is sealed," said Balin, and I sat back down. I had forgotten, and let foolish emotion block my reason. Sometimes I hated that Balin could be so levelheaded, but I knew I needed him to be. "There is no way into the Mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," said Gandalf, and he produced a small key from his robe. I recognized it immediately.

"How came you by this?" I asked quietly.

"It was given to me by your father," he answered, "By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now." The wizard handed me the key. It was strange to hold it in my hand. I remembered my grandfather showing it to me when I was young, telling me of its use. It was a piece of my home, a promise of a future I thought was lost in the dragon's flames.

"If there is a key," said Fili, "then there must be a door." At least my heir had some grasp of basic logic.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls," announced Gandalf.

"There's another way in," said Kili happily, as if it needed to be explained.

"Well, if we can find it," admitted Gandalf gently, "but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it." At this he looked curiously at Blair, and she shook her head. Did he think someone from another world, or even someone of the race of Man could read a Dwarvish map? He looked back to the map and continued, "But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage." He glanced at the burglar as if he was directly addressing him. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" observed Ori.

"Hmm," agreed the Hobbit. "And a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine."

"Well, are you?" asked Dori. I turned my head slightly towards the Hobbit, but my eyes landed on Blair. She had a knowing smile on her face. She was a strange woman indeed.

"Am I what?" asked Bilbo. Blair smirked and looked at me. I mirrored her expression. This poor creature had no idea what was happening to him.

"He says he's an expert!" called Oin gleefully. There were a few protests around the table before the Hobbit got a chance to speak.

"Me? No. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar," he protested. "I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"Well, I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," said Balin. "He's hardly burglar material." I could sense the Hobbit nodding behind me. I couldn't help but feel irritated by his behavior, and by Gandalf's poor judgment. The wizard had never been wrong before, but it seemed that there was a first time for everything.

"Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," agreed Dwalin. The group erupted into chaos as everyone attempted to have their opinion heard. I glanced at Blair and noticed she was looking at someone behind me. A flicker of fear passed over her face before she pulled her hood over her head and slouched in her chair. I found myself wishing to do the same as I felt a powerful presence behind me.

"ENOUGH!" boomed the wizard's voice, louder than it should have been. I had only really made Gandalf angry once. I had been careful to never make that mistake again. I was a Durin and able to hold my ground, but that did not mean I was immune to fear. I felt it at that moment, gripping my heart and trying to make me shudder. "IF I SAY THAT MR. BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR, then a burglar he is." Everyone sat back in their seats, silenced by the wizard's power.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," said a small voice. I turned and saw a pair of strange dark eyes peering up at everyone from beneath a hood. Blair glanced at Gandalf before continuing. "In fact, they can unseen by most if they wish. And while while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbits is all but unknown to him."

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company," continued Gandalf, "and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself." Gandalf looked at me meaningfully. "You must trust me on this." I mulled over their words for a moment before nodding.

"Very well. We will do it your way," I said, and then to Balin, "Give him the contract." As Balin retrieved the long piece of parchment from his pocket, I found myself looking at Blair again. She was staring intently at Balin, and then at Bilbo as I passed the contract to him. I wished that the contract was in her hands instead. She was light on her feet and could disappear if she wished. She had proven that she was worth a great deal more than any of us had suspected. She could fight well enough, and that was more than could be said of our burglar. He seemed to be just slightly more than useless, and would no doubt flee at the first sight of trouble. He would likely die in the first battle.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses," Balin explained to the burglar, "time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" the small creature repeated. I doubted he would accompany us. Balin had been particularly thorough in his descriptions, said he wanted to ensure everyone knew exactly what could happen. Still, the lure of Dwarven gold was strong, though the cost was immeasurably high. The contract would keep Mr. Baggins in line, but I began to wonder about Gandalf. I stood and leaned toward him so the burglar could not hear over his own mumbling.

"I cannot guarantee his safety," I whispered to the wizard. The Hobbit, for whatever strange reason, seemed to be dear to him.

"Understood," he replied.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," I continued. I would not let the wizard hold it against me if any harm came to the small creature. A wizard with a grudge was not something to be trifled with.

"Agreed," he said evenly, and I seated myself.

"Incineration?" questioned the Hobbit nervously. I looked back at Bilbo. Why did he seem surprised? We were going to fight a dragon, not a house cat.

"Oh, aye," said Bofur with a grin. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Bilbo's breathing stopped briefly, and when it returned it was labored.

"You alright, laddie?" questioned Balin with barely concealed amusement. The Hobbit leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees for support.

"Uh, yeah," he breathed. "I feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace with wings!" supplied Bofur helpfully. He stood and gestured dramatically, ever the mischievous one.

"Air. I-I-I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash." The burglar gasped and desperately sucked in air. If that was how he reacted to words, I hated to think of how he'd respond to the sight of the beast. Of course, if we did reach Erebor and he lived to see the Smaug, I wouldn't hold it against him if he fainted then. The sight of the worm had been enough to steal the strength in my knees and the breath from my lungs. Few things caused me to feel such terror, and the dragon was one of them. Bilbo straightened up and took a deep breath. He nodded as if to say he was going to be alright.

"Nope," he said, and fell. I turned, unable to look at his pathetic state. Someone stood up from their seat and walked towards the fallen Hobbit. I turned and saw Blair picking him up in her arms. She grunted and adjusted his weight before taking him to the sitting room and depositing him in a large armchair. I turned back to the company as Bofur returned to his seat. I could see in all their eyes their disapproval of Gandalf's choice of burglar, but they dared not say it.

"I think I agree with the wizard 'bout the lass," grumbled Gloin. Everyone nodded and murmured. I nodded and looked to Gandalf. He had a rather smug look on his face. Blair returned, gently massaging her right shoulder. Everyone looked to her expectantly, as if she was going to speak. She stopped in her tracks and looked around at everyone. A light blush crept over her face as she awkwardly sat back down.

"Lady Blair," I began.

"Just call me Blair," she cut in. I couldn't find it in myself to be irritated with her interruption. She seemed so embarrassed. "I'm clearly not a lady or anything."

"Well, Blair," I resumed, trying to keep my amusement out of my voice, "the company and I are of the same mind as Gandalf regarding you." She raised an eyebrow. "We wish you to accompany us on the quest. You have proven that you are capable of defending yourself, and we believe you could survive in the Wilds. We can have a basic contract drawn up soon enough." I let my words sink in. Blair looked stunned at the idea of traveling with us. Her expression changed, and I thought I saw excitement in her eyes, maybe even joy. Then she looked around the table, her eyes resting on each Dwarf. When her gaze returned to me, they made me feel hollow. I recognized the look in her eyes. I saw it in the face of mothers and wives when they received the news that their men had been killed in battle. I saw it in the face of my men after Erebor had been taken from them. Somehow, seeing that look, one of pain and loss, in her strange dark eyes was unnerving.

"No." She stood and left the room. Gandalf stood to follow her, briefly checking on the burglar and telling him to stay put. I stood and followed the wizard, not knowing exactly what I was going to do. I stopped and peered around a corner. Blair was sitting in a small chair with her head bowed and her legs and arms crossed tightly. Gandalf squatted down in front of her.

"Well, my dear?" he said softly. "What is it that you know that repels you?" Blair looked up and I could see the torment clearly on her face. She ducked her head again and was hidden under her hood once more. Gandalf gently questioned her. "Is it something that happens along the way? Is it the journey itself? Do you simply not wish to join them? Do you fear you will change to course of what is meant to be?" Of what is meant to be? What was the wizard speaking of? I believed in destiny, and I did not see how Blair could possibly alter what destiny dictated. The woman took a shaky breath.

"I know who dies," she said in a broken voice. I frowned. She had the gift of foresight? Why hadn't Gandalf mentioned that? It could prove to be useful. We would be able to avoid dangers along the way. I didn't see how foresight was a change of destiny. From what I had been told, those who could see into the future saw possibilities only, not that which was meant to be. Was Blair somehow different?

"Well," said the wizard, "when does it happen?"

"In a battle, after they've regained Erebor." My heart swelled, but I tried to keep myself in check. Possibilities only.

"So they do reclaim it?"

"That's what happens in the book, yeah." Book?

"This book from your world, this one is the most important?"

"It's the beginning," she said with a shrug, "so yeah, I guess you could call it that." My head ached from their talk; books and the future and Blair's mysterious world. What did they mean?

"You are worried that you'll change what was written," stated the wizard. Blair looked up at him, her eyes unreadable.

"Two people I loved very much died in my arms," she said. "I know the Dwarves from the book already. I already like them. If I go on this journey, and I care about them any more than I already do, I will try everything possible to keep them alive." Her declaration both confused and moved me.

"Are their deaths imperative?" questioned Gandalf. "You are already here. Clearly some things have been changed already. I don't know what end goal you are guarding so dearly, but would the Dwarves' survival affect it?" Blair retreated into her hood again and was silent for a time.

"I don't know," she said quietly. Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up again. I could see a hint of a smile on the side of his face.

"I still believe that you should go with them," he said. "You think you might be a hindrance, but perhaps you could be a guardian of sorts. Something has changed the story already, and you could try to ensure that what must happen comes to pass. If after everything, you find that the Dwarves must die all the same, you could remove yourself from them and leave the rest up to destiny."

"I wouldn't be able to let them die," she said harshly, a fierceness entering her expression. "I can't leave them to die."

"Then join them, and be their guardian." With that, the wizard stood. I hastened to put as much distance between myself and Gandalf as possible. After a few moments, a gruff voice reached my ears.

"Don't let her know that you know," said Gandalf. I glanced up and found him staring down at me. "She is simply trying to do what must be done. Do not blame her if she lets hardships befall you. She may not even know of them before they happen." I watched him disappear down the hall and tried to make sense of everything I had heard.

Blair claimed to know the future from some book she had read, and Gandalf believed her. Though his judgment of the Hobbit was questionable, I did not think he would believe that some strange girl knew everything that would come to pass without proof. If Blair was telling the truth, it meant that we would succeed in our quest. We would reclaim Erebor. We could finally go home… but some of us were meant to die. That had only ever been a possibility in the back of my mind. To know that someone under my protection, whatever the contract might say, was going to die was alarming.

I clenched my jaw, wondering what Blair would do with this information. Would she withhold it from us? Would she allow my Dwarves to face the same pain she claimed to have experienced? Would she try to save them? I briefly entertained the idea of her charging into battle screaming profanity at an Orc attacking our burglar. I was inclined to believe that was the most likely scenario if she truly felt some fondness towards our company. It mattered little. I would get the names of my doomed followers out of her whether she volunteered the information or not.

* * *

**A/N:** Wow we are on chapter four and we're _still_ at Bag End... I swear, it gets interesting. It might even be worth it. Who knows?

Tune in next week to find out if Blair actually decides to go on the journey or this is just a really long fanfiction about a kick-ass vigilante retiring in the Shire... I mean that could be the direction this goes. You don't know what's going to happen.

**Avalanet: **Aw, thank you so much! I'm so happy you're enjoying the story so far!

**ShannonTheAwesomeOne:** Thank you so much for this review. I really appreciate the constructive criticism. I went back through this chapter and added a few explanations for the previous chapter. I'm not trying to "explain away" Blair's victories so much as ground them and give them a reason for actually happening. They all would have beaten her if they'd actually fought her, but of course, only after a good fight. Everyone has a natural talent, and Blair has two: languages and athletics. I try to think everything through, and mostly I have good reasons that will be revealed at a later date,but sometimes I get an idea that I'll think is cool but doesn't make much sense. I hope that I made this work! (and if you see me accidentally writing Mary-Sue instead of Blair, _please call me out on it and I will give it serious consideration and maybe rewrite because that would be embarrassing._)

**echoi5004:** I'm sorry! I meant to upload early for you, but then _Game of Thrones_ happened and I needed some recovery time. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! And thank you. I'm glad people are noticing fanfiction tends to be a bit whitewashed. I guess I just figured, "Why wait for someone else to do it?"

**Kilataia: **I'm glad you think so!


	6. Chapter 5: Possibly Bad Decisions

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Chapter 5: Possibly Bad Decisions**

* * *

I swallowed back tears and took a deep breath. Thorin, who was willing to risk everything to reclaim his homeland, who had such honor and courage, was supposed to die. My mother read me The Hobbit when I was very young. Up until that point, death had never touched anyone I cared about. I had cared about Thorin. I wanted him to be King Under the Mountain so badly because he was a hero to me. And then he was gone and I didn't understand why.

How could I watch him die?

Fili, obviously bright and loyal, was supposed to die. Kili, charming and as loyal as anyone, was supposed to die. I remembered the first time I heard about their deaths. I had actually said, "No!" aloud and Mom had paused her reading to ask me what was wrong. It was how they died that affected me the most. They weren't huge characters in the book, but they died heroes as well.

Could I really let them die?

I stood and made my way to the living room. Maybe a change of scenery would help me think. Bilbo passed me and I remembered that he had told Gandalf he wasn't going, as well. He nodded to me and continued down the hall to his room. I paused before continuing on my way.

"It's just as well," I heard Balin say softly. I leaned my head in the direction of the sound without thinking. Years of eavesdropping on whispered conversations had made it a habit. "Maybe we're all doomed anyway. We're hardly fit to attack a dragon." Balin sounded as if they had already been defeated. I remembered that he had been at Erebor when Smaug had first attacked and my heart went out to the old Dwarf.

"There are a few warriors among us," I heard a deep voice protest. Thorin.

"Old warriors," corrected Balin.

"Perhaps we will have a new one soon."

"The lass?" My ears perked up and I leaned a little closer. I heard Thorin hum his confirmation. Balin sighed. "She's said no, Thorin."

"I believe she will join us," said the king. I frowned. Why was he so sure?

"And how do you suppose that?" said Balin. "We all saw her face. She isn't keen on the prospect of aiding us." My face fell. No. That wasn't true. I wanted to help them with all my heart, but how could I?

"She is. She's just… afraid." I decided I didn't like being talked about behind my back. Not one bit.

"Afraid of what?" Balin scoffed. "She's survived death, Thorin, I don't think she has much to fear." That was looking on the bright side.

_Afraid of what?_ I was afraid of dying again because that was hardly a walk in the park. I was afraid of messing everything up. I was afraid I would somehow make the Dwarves hate me. I was afraid I would have to watch them die.

I didn't want them to keep talking about me, but also I didn't want to approach them. Unfortunately, there were only two options before me.

I moved from my hiding spot and walked up to them. They noticed me and turned their heads just a little too quickly, but otherwise gave no indication they had been talking about me. Balin gave me a small smile and Thorin stared at me intensely. Fuck, what was I doing?

"I'll go," I said. _Since WHEN?_ They both looked surprised and almost… relieved.

"Good," he said. "Balin, do you think you could draw up a contract?" The old Dwarf nodded and left to find something to write with, leaving me alone with Thorin. It was a whole new level of awkward for me. I had just eavesdropped on two of my favorite characters talking about me, and now I was alone with one of them, pinned under his scrutiny. Why was he looking at me like that?

"So," I said awkwardly. I made the mistake of looking directly at Thorin's eyes and I forgot everything I was going to say. _So this is what it's like to be star struck._

"I am glad you've chosen to accompany us," Thorin said calmly. "Otherwise, things might have been unpleasant between us." _Wait, what?_ Without another word, he brushed past me to join the others in the sitting room. So it seemed Thorin held grudges against strangers who didn't immediately agree to go on quests with him. I shook my head and followed him.

I settled down in a far corner, not wanting to intrude on this moment. The Dwarves began to get out their pipes and light up. I smiled as the air became thick with the smell of the pipe weed. I had been expecting it to smell like cigars, but I didn't gag. It actually smelled really wonderful. I wondered briefly if I would end up stoned. Oh great. Say no to drugs your whole life and end up accidentally high with Dwarves. Of course, because that was a thing that happened to people sometimes.

Then the Dwarves began to hum. The whole room seemed to vibrate with the sounds of their voices. I sat back and allowed the music of the Dwarves fill my mind.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold," sang Thorin, his eyes icy and bitter. "To dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away, at break of day, to seek our long forgotten gold."

"The pines were roaring on the height." A few of the Dwarves joined in, standing as they did so. "The winds were moaning, in the night." More joined and stood. It reminded me of when the national anthem was played, but somehow this seemed even more important. It was probably because the Dwarves were singing with real emotion, with reverence for the song. It seemed important because it was important; at least it was to them.

"The fire was red. It, flaming, spread. The trees, like torches, blazed with light." When they had finished, I was filled with sudden relief. I realized that if I had not agreed to go with them before, I would have been on my knees, begging them to let me go with them. Their song moved something in me, and I was shocked to find that it had moved me to tears.

* * *

I looked at each Dwarf, seeing determination and a desire for vengeance in all their eyes. Good. I wanted them to have fire in their hearts. I wanted them to be ready to do anything to take back their homeland. Movement in a corner drew my eye and I saw the woman from another world rubbing at her face. Her eyes gleamed in the light of the fire from freshly shed tears.

I wondered at her expression. I had never seen a crying woman with such resolution in her eyes. What had happened to her that caused such a response? She claimed to be quite fond of us, of our unfulfilled story, but I doubted a woman like her would become so emotional because of a simple song. The song meant something to every Dwarf in the room, even those too young to have witnessed the fall of Erebor. What did it mean to Blair?

"Do you sing?" I found myself asking. Her eyes shifted to me and she blinked away the last of her tears.

"Not really," she said.

"What are songs like from your world?" asked Kili.

"Well, it depends," she said thoughtfully. "There are a lot of different types. There's pop, rock, country, jazz. There's a lot."

"You have songs about rocks?" asked Ori.

"No, that's just what that kind of music is called."

"Why's it called that?" wondered Bofur.

"I… I have no idea. I didn't come up with it."

"I think we'd like to hear one of your songs," Fili smirked. I shot my nephew a look of warning. Blair had already expressed that she had no desire to sing and he had no business trying to trap her.

"Well," she said with a slight smile, "stranger things have happened. Maybe you will someday." A clever response. I wondered briefly if she was used to turning down requests, but now was not the time to ask. It was late, and we would start early, whether or not we were well rested.

* * *

"Let's turn in for the night," Thorin announced. The Dwarves responded with a series of grunts and nods. They all disappeared down the hall in search of rooms. It wasn't long before there was shouting and the sound of furniture scraping the floor. I could picture Bilbo flinching in his room at the noise. I felt sorry for him, but he would have to get used to it.

I stood and looked around the room for a place to sleep. The chairs were comfortable enough, but I wasn't going to waste my first night in Bag End sleeping on a chair like some bum. No. This called for a couch. I smiled and collapsed onto the cushions. It was the softest thing I had laid down on in four years. In my first apartment, I slept on an air mattress, and then when I moved in with Talia, I was given a rollout cot. I had no right to complain, though. She had been risking a lot by letting me stay in her house, even if it was to pay back a debt. My chest suddenly felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I had forgotten about Talia.

I pushed my worries aside and sat up. Talia was going to be fine. She knew from the start that I was going to end up dead on the streets. That was a possibility for both of us, but I didn't have pimp to protect me, and I was throwing myself into dangerous situations all the time. Talia would get by without me. She always had.

But she would still worry, wouldn't she? We were allies, but we were also friends. I hadn't wanted that to happen. Getting close to people never ended well for me, but it was impossible to not like Talia. She was tough as nails, and she would get through everything on her own, but she was going to worry about me. She was going to worry, and then when I didn't come home, she would know I was gone.

And Aunt Semmi. Oh god, Aunt Semmi. I had lived with her when I was seventeen, after Grandma and my parents were gone. She had tried so hard to make me happy. She'd offered to get me grief counseling. She'd paid for my hapkido lessons. She'd tried so fucking hard, and what did I do once I was eighteen? Move out and call her once a month to let her know I was doing alright. I had told myself that was the way it had to be. I had to keep her at arms length to protect us both. She'd deserved better. And now she didn't even have that. She'd lost her mother, her brother, her sister in law, her niece. Could she handle another death?

What about Sean? Tyrell? Smitty? Lisa? My taxi drivers. We weren't close, not really, but they could have turned me in at any time. They'd figured me out quickly enough, but they just kept helping me, kept making small talk with euphemisms that made me smile. They would wonder what had happened to me.

Fuck, I'd left more behind than I'd realized. And I'd forgotten all about them. All I'd thought of was how awesome it was to be in Middle Earth. I had given more consideration for fictional characters than the people who had actually been a part of my life, who had been there for me when I needed them. What did that say about me?

My jaw clenched as my eyes shut. My hands became fists and every muscle in my body was tensed. I had to focus. I had to be calm. I breathed deep, even breaths. Master Ahn told us to visualize good energy entering us and bad energy leaving. I was never good at the spiritual aspects of martial arts, and I got in trouble a few times with the instructors for it, but just breathing helped. Breathing. A simple task that allowed me to survive. A basic function that was neither bad nor good. For a moment, all that existed was my breathing. I wasn't dead or alive, happy or sad. I just breathed.

The tension left my body slowly and I opened my eyes. I was still there. Still in Bag End. This was still happening to me. I was going to go to sleep and go on a truly unexpected journey tomorrow.

I didn't have any supplies. I stood and looked around the room, searching for… I didn't know what. I needed a bag, and anything I could carry. Bilbo had backpacks. Where would he keep them? An image of a chest by the front door flashed through my mind and I made my way to the entrance hall. There were walking sticks mounted on the wall behind a wooden chest. This had to be it.

I paused a moment. I didn't want to steal from Bilbo, but what choice did I have? Besides, he wouldn't miss one backpack. I crouched down and undid the latch. Inside were several bags, sleeping bags, and a few picnic baskets. I picked out a dark green backpack and sleeping bag before shutting the lid. I tossed the bags carelessly on the sofa and thought a moment. What else did I need?

I packed a few apples, what appeared to be jerky of some kind, a bar of soap, and a handful of handkerchiefs I found in a drawer. I smiled when I saw them. Bilbo wouldn't have to wipe his nose of Bofur's shirt now. I pulled the bag off of the sofa and let it fall to the ground, but it hit my leg on the way down. The sound of an apple smooshing against something hard drew my eyes and I saw it. The weapons trapped to my thigh.

My gun.

I fell to the couch and covered my face with my hands. I brought a gun to Middle Earth. There were rules about that kind of thing on the street. No guns at knife fights, and vice versa, but one was about stupidity and the other was about honor. I had always preferred throwing knives. They were quieter and reusable, but I always kept a gun on me, just in case. But now I was in a place where guns didn't exist. Guns had no place in Middle Earth, and neither did I.

What if it fell into the wrong hands? All hands were the wrong hands. I shouldn't even have the damn thing. I rubbed my eyes and let my hands fall into my lap.

What if the Dwarves saw it and started reproducing it? What if the Elves saw it and made guns? What if Gandalf saw it and somehow it got back to Saruman and then he would mass produce enchanted guns and then distributed them to his Uruk army? Wow, I had massively fucked up.

I lay down and curled into a ball. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe there would be no problem. I just wouldn't use the gun. I would pretend it wasn't there and no one would notice. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths again.

Everything was going to be alright.

...

I woke up slowly. At first, I just turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Then I wondered why I was sleeping on a couch, and I remembered I was in Bag End. I sat up quickly and looked around. I had never dreamt about falling asleep and waking up. It wasn't a dream. I had died and gone to Middle Earth. I rubbed my eyes and stretched. The fire had gone out sometime in the night and all that was left were some smoldering embers and a little warmth. I realized how dark it was and silently walked over to the window. It was pitch black outside.

"It's always darkest before the dawn," I said. Stupid saying. It's true in the literal sense, but every time I had ever heard it, it was meant to encourage me. After everything I loved died, it was always _it's darkest before the dawn_, or _it will get better_. No. Then again, I had died and gone to Middle Earth. That was something good followed by tragedy, I guess.

"Yes, it is." I turned and saw Balin staring at the window with a smile on his face. "Let's hope the others wake up soon. Thorin won't be pleased if they're sleeping at day break." I followed the eldest Dwarf into the kitchen and found that he had already made some tea and laid out biscuits with cold ham. He poured two cups and handed one of them to me.

"Thank you," I said and took a sip. It was damn good tea, and I didn't know if I should compliment Balin or Bilbo. So instead, I asked him, "So… early riser?"

"Yes. Ever since I was a lad," he answered after he swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. "Much to my brother's displeasure." I smiled.

"Yeah, Dwalin doesn't strike me as much of a morning person."

"Well, it depends on how well he sleeps." Balin shrugged. "I made sure that he had a good pillow, so he should be fairly reasonable today." I nodded and helped myself to a biscuit and ham. I wondered what the food would be like on the journey. In the books and movies, it seemed like stew or jerky and some kind of hard bread was the norm. I savored the buttery biscuit, knowing that until we got to Rivendell I probably wouldn't have a real meal again.

"Should we get the others up?" I asked Balin. He shook his head quickly.

"Trust me, lass," he said gravely, "you do not want to ever wake up a Dwarf warrior. It may be the last thing you ever do." I nodded, understanding perfectly. Talia's roommate Casey made the mistake of trying to wake me up one morning, and I nearly slit her throat. I gritted my teeth and gulped down more tea. I didn't want to think of Talia or anyone else. Instead, I tried to think of a way to wake them all up without getting near them. _What gets me up in the morning?_ The answer was almost painfully obvious.

"I've got an idea," I said and stood. I dug around the kitchen, looking for the biggest pan I could find. I set it on the stove and got a fire going. I was usually useless in the kitchen without help, but I knew how to make one thing better than anyone else. I hurried to the pantry and found what I was searching for. The siren call of breakfast foods: bacon. Balin chuckled when he saw the pile of meat in my hands.

"That'll get them up, alright," he said. I laid the bacon on the pan, and _oh my goodness, the sound of bacon_. I smiled as the smell filled the air. Balin breathed deeply and I knew it would be a matter of minutes before the first Dwarf came running.

* * *

I splashed some cool water on my face and took a deep breath. Today was the day, the beginning of our journey. I had rested peacefully and woken up long before daylight. My spirits were high as I remembered what I had overheard the night before. Our quest was destined to succeed. We would reclaim Erebor, our home. Still, members of our company were destined to die. Fortunately, Blair had agreed to join us on the journey. I was sure that she would at the very least try to change what had been written.

I left the small washroom and dressed myself before heading to the kitchen. Balin was likely up already with some food prepared. After Bombur woke, he would likely create a spread to rival the feast last night. As I approached the kitchen, a mouth-watering smell reached me. I walked faster and heard the familiar sizzle of bacon.

A strange sight was before me as I entered the room. Balin was seated at the table, a cup of tea before him and a smile on his face. That was normal enough. The strange sight was Blair leaning over the stove, smelling the bacon that she was preparing. It was so normal that it was odd. Blair heard me enter and turned her eyes away from her cooking a moment.

"Morning," she said. "Nothing like waking up to bacon after dying and landing in another world." I smirked at her sarcastic tone, but there really could not be anything that matched up to her situation. It was so strange to see her simply cooking breakfast, like any other being in Middle Earth.

"Morning," said Balin as I sat at the head of the table. He poured me a cup of tea and I accepted it with a nod. "Sleep well?"

"Mm," I said as I drank the tea. I heard a few groans from the hall and knew that the Dwarves were waking to the smell of the bacon. I wondered if Blair had prepared the dish partially for that purpose. Bombur came stumbling in loudly, half asleep with his nose in the air.

"Bacon," he moaned and I rolled my eyes. Bofur followed after him, and then Dwalin.

"So the lass does womanly things," grumbled Dwalin. Blair shot him a look that would have made him cower if he had his eyes open.

"Pretty sure that cooking is in neutral territory," she growled. Dwalin mumbled something and she glared at him again.

"I'd agree with the lass," supported Bombur, and the elder Dwarf rolled his eyes. Blair turned away and focused on her cooking again.

"Of course, bacon is rather womanly," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should just drop it in the fire, since you deserve much manlier food." Dwalin stood up and seemed ready to start yelling before I coughed. He glanced at me and slowly sat back down, his eyes on Blair's back. She turned around and smiled wickedly. "I'm kidding."

"Best not to joke about a Dwarf's bacon, lass," warned Balin.

"Best not to label the lass and say she has to conform to a certain standard in order to be deemed acceptable," she retorted, and then so softly I almost didn't hear, "or else this lass is gonna shove a knife up your ass." I snorted and realized I was the only one who had been able to hear her. While the Dwarves stared at me with confusion, Blair glanced over her shoulder and smiled at me. I should not have encouraged her to use such language, but I couldn't bring myself to scold her.

Oin and Gloin stumbled in, followed by Dori and Nori. Ori came crawling in a few moments later, just as Blair piled the bacon on a large plate and set it in front of the Dwarves. If it was not the morning and they knew they would be treated to bacon again the next day, I would have been able to help myself to the food first, as king. As those were not the circumstances, the plate was instantly covered with grasping hands and I waited. Movement caught my eye and I found a small hand setting a plate of bacon in front of me. I looked up and saw strange knowing eyes staring back at me. I nodded my thanks and began to devour the bacon. By Durin, it was heavenly.

* * *

Good lord, could those Dwarves eat. I sat back and watched as only a few of them showed mild restraint in the face of the breakfast god. I nibbled at my one piece, knowing that I wouldn't get any for a very, _very_ long time. Elves didn't serve bacon, I was sure, and after Rivendell, there was no chance until Laketown. I finished off my little slice of heaven and sucked the grease off of my fingers. The Dwarves were shoveling the bacon down their throats, all except Balin and Thorin. Balin glanced over at me and noticed my lack of food. He smiled sadly at me and held out a piece. As I reached for it, a fat hand found its way around the eldest Dwarf and stole the bacon. I watched sadly as Bombur ate my piece of bacon. Balin sighed and left the room. I was about to follow when a little plate was shoved in front of me with three pieces of bacon on it. I looked up from it and saw Thorin standing next to me, an almost smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said.

"No problem," I said and took the plate. I hurried out of the room after Balin, biting greedily into a juicy bit of bacon. Fili and Kili wandered in, yawning.

"We smell bacon!" announced the blonde, and Kili nodded his agreement as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"You're a bit late, lads," said Balin.

"It's all gone by now," agreed Thorin. Fili and Kili looked from their uncle to Balin and back, looks of misery on their faces. I looked down at my plate of bacon. Two pieces left. _NO._ I almost groaned out loud. _ABSOLUTELY NOT._ I found myself walking forwards. _DON'T DO IT._ I held out the plate to the brothers and they looked up at me in awe. Slowly, reverently, they picked up the pieces of bacon. I watched as they slowly devoured the bacon. _My_ bacon. _YOU'RE STUPID. HAS ANYONE EVER TOLD YOU THAT BEFORE? YOU'RE A CLASS-A MORON._

"Thank you," they said in unison. I grunted an acknowledgement and moved away from them, part of me wanting to reach down their throats and get my bacon back. I made my way over to Balin and the old Dwarf clapped me on the shoulder to reassure me that I had done the right thing.

"Have you drawn up her contract?" asked Thorin. I realized I hadn't signed it yet and turned to Balin, who nodded.

"I think this just about covers it all," said Balin and he retrieved a piece of parchment from a nearby table. He handed it to me and I looked over the contract. It was very straightforward, thankfully, and I was able to read over it quickly. It basically said that I would go on the journey with them until we found the person from another world and if I wanted to stay there I could, but I could also join them on the final trek to Erebor. Then I'd get one fifteenth of the treasure, but if I stayed in Mirkwood they'd just reimburse me if they could. They weren't responsible for any lacerations, eviscerations, incineration, death, etcetera. I nodded and held my hand out for a writing utensil. I was handed a quill pen, which I gave a look before scribbling down my name. Thorin came up behind me and took the quill before signing it as well, and Balin followed after as a witness.

"It's settled then," said Balin with a smile. "Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Blair… uh… Yoon?" He peered down at the contract and read my last name curiously. I nodded to let him know he had pronounced it correctly.

"What's the meaning of your name?" asked Fili as he licked his lips.

"What?" I asked, confused, and mildly distracted by the Dwarf prince sucking the grease off his thumb.

"Your last name," clarified Kili. "Our uncle's surname allows others to know that he is the one who wielded the oaken branch. What does your name mean?"

"Uh… it's just my family's name. It means I'm a part of it."

"Well, what does their name mean?" asked Balin.

"_Grandma, I hate being Korean.__" Grandma looked at me like she was going to slap my mouth, like when I said bad words. She grabbed my arm and pulled me close, her face all near my face. I started to cry._

"_Don't you ever say that, Blair,__" she ordered. "__Do not say that again.__" I wiped my face and glared at her. She was being so mean, but she didn't understand._

"_They all make fun of me__," I cried. "__All the kids at school pull on their eyes and laugh and they call me Ching Chong and Chinese. One of the boys called me… I think it's another bad word, Grandma, because the teacher yelled at him, but it's because I'm Korean. I hate having stupid eyes and a stupid last name!__" Grandma's eyes got all sad for a second and I felt bad for it. Then she looked angry. I was scared. Grandma was scary when she was angry._

"_You listen to me, Blair Yoon__," she said and made sure I was looking in her eyes. "__Don't ever hate yourself because of the way those fools treat you. Do you think your mother is ugly?__" I shook my head. "__Then why should they mock eyes that are so like hers? Are you Chinese?__" I smiled and shook my head. "__Then they're idiots. This boy used a bad word?__" I nodded. "__He got in trouble because he was wrong to do that. These children are wrong, and their parents who taught them to hate are wrong, not you. You are not the problem.__" I sniffled and Grandma gave me a tissue. She didn't like me to wipe my nose on my sleeve._

_Maybe being Korean wasn't so bad. Maybe it was a good thing. Mommy was Korean and she was the prettiest woman ever. Grandma was Korean and she always knew what to say. Daddy was Korean and he was a nice person. My whole family was Korean, and they were all fun people and I loved them._

"_Grandma?__"_

"_Yes, love?__"_

"_What does 'Yoon' mean?"_

"The eldest," I said softly. "Or something like that. It's a Korean name."

"Is yours the oldest family on Earth, then?" Balin asked and I shrugged.

"It's possible, I guess," I said.

"It must have been very powerful." I laughed and shook my head.

"Sometimes. My grandmother liked to mention the fact that several women from her clan were queens."

"You're royalty?" asked Thorin. I shook my head.

"There's no royalty in America. That's where I was born, but my grandparents were from Korea. Despite their heritage, they weren't royalty at all." I smiled. Grandma was always going on about how she came to this country with only her papers, some rice, and a hunk on her arm. Em loved that story, even if it was slightly embellished.

"How did they fall out of power?" asked Kili.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. Things seemed to have taken an awkward turn, so I handed Balin the contract and retreated from the room. I stepped outside and looked out across Hobbiton. I would never get used to being here, in Middle Earth. It was simply too beautiful. The sky was just beginning to turn grey and the shapes of the hills were starting to form out of the darkness. I wanted to stay there and greet the sunrise, but I knew that was impossible. No doubt Thorin would have us going before the sun had a chance to peak over the horizon.

_My mouth feels weird… Oh, I didn't brush my… how am I supposed to brush me teeth in Middle Earth? Shit, everything's different now. No more toothpaste. No more showers. NO MORE SHOWERS. Okay, focus. You can survive a sword fight with Thorin Oakenshield. You can survive a few months without your normal hygiene routine. Wow... I can use that. I can say I dueled Thorin Oakenshield..._

But I really, really wanted to brush my teeth. I looked around at the Dwarves and most of them were stuffing food in their mouths as well as their pockets. I figured I'd just eat an apple to freshen my breath. I retrieved my bag and took out the apple that my gun had dented last night. I bit into the juicy flesh and let the taste chase away thoughts of forbidden weapons. I headed outside and tossed the core into the grass.

Thorin, Balin, Bifur, and Bofur were outside with their ponies. When I saw the animals, I stopped short. Bofur looked over at me and no doubt saw my apprehension plainly on my face.

"Ever ridden before, lass?" he asked. I shook my head. "Well, it ain't that tough, really. Come on over and we'll give you a few pointers." I slowly walked over and Bifur lead a little grey pony up to me, mumbling in Khuzdul.

"He says her name's Myrtle," translated Bofur. I almost blurted out, "I know," but somehow managed to hold my tongue. I didn't want the Dwarves to know I was in on their private language. That would raise too many questions, and Dwarves were more protective over their ancient words than they were over their gold. I looked at the pony and bit my lip. I almost wanted to pull a Bilbo and say I could keep up on my legs. I probably could have, too. I could run through New York easily enough; meandering through Middle Earth couldn't be much worse. But I didn't want to wimp out. It was just a pony.

"Okay," I said. "So how do I mount her?" _Way to word that awkwardly._

"Get on this side of her," said Bofur and I moved to where he was. "Now take the reins in your left hand and grab at the bit of mane right here." He pointed to the base of the mane and I obeyed.

"Hold the right side of the rein a wee bit tighter than the left," instructed Balin. "That should keep her in place." I gripped at the reins a little more and nodded my head.

"Alright, lass, now get your left foot in the stirrup here," said Bofur and I slowly moved my foot where he directed it. Bifur gave me advice in Khuzdul and I tried very hard to keep myself from obeying him immediately. Instead I looked expectantly to his brother, waiting for him to translate.

"He said to turn your foot to the left and face forwards a wee bit so's you don't poke the horse with your toes," clarified Bofur. I nodded and followed the instructions. "Right, so you've got your right hand where it needs to be already, on the back of the saddle. Now don't use your arms to push yourself. Use your leg."

"You could do a few small jumps to get yourself going," added Balin.

"And once you're up there, move your right hand out of the way, and be sure to lift your right leg high enough so's you don't kick Myrtle. She won't be too pleased with you if you do. Right, now you think you've got it?"

"Maybe," I said.

"Give it a go, lass," encouraged Balin. I sighed and relaxed myself. _I can do this. It's just a little pony. My little pony, my little pony, you'll always be… I'm going to punch myself in the face._ I bounced on my right leg a few times before pushing myself up. I swung my right leg and moved my right hand before settling into the saddle. It wasn't that bad.

"Good job, lass!" cried Bofur as he clapped his hands. Balin chuckled and Bifur mumbled something about his brother being a great teacher. Bofur was so enthusiastic it was just adorable. I grinned and gripped the reins.

"_I've got to say, brother,_" said Kili's voice, speaking in Khuzdul, "_That was quite a sight._"

"_Indeed,_" said Fili proudly, and I looked up to see them watching me. I tried to keep a blank expression. "_I can hardly wait to see it again._" I tried not to roll my eyes. These idiots thought a girl getting on a horse was hot? They'd probably cum in their pants if they ever saw a bathing pool back on Earth. Still, it was kind of hilarious. Maybe later I'd flash an ankle and watch them faint.

"_Please keep your thoughts to yourselves, lads,_" Balin groaned. "_Most of us still know what you're saying._"

"_You've heard us say worse,_" protested Fili.

"_But the woman in question was not named nor in our company at the time,_" said Thorin sternly, as if that made it better. "_Show some kind of decency._"

"_She doesn't know what we're saying,_" huffed Kili.

"_That makes it even worse,_" growled Thorin and he turned away from his nephews to mount his pony. Fili and Kili gave each other a look and I knew that they weren't planning on obeying him. I leaned over to Balin.

"Am I allowed to know?" I asked innocently. Color rose in his face and he shook his head wearily.

"I don't think you would want to," he said and I nodded. Some day, they would pay for being so pervy, but for now I would settle on making it awkward for everyone else and watching them get yelled at.

Finally, everyone was outside and on a pony. Gandalf had appeared and I wondered how long he had been there. He was riding a full sized horse, and I felt very small knowing I was sitting on a pony. The sky was turning blue and I could see bits of light starting to creep over the hills. Hobbiton was breathtaking at sunrise. I wanted to stay there and enjoy the simple beauty, but an order from Thorin had everyone moving. I found myself at the back of the line, near Ori and Nori. Nori was arguing with Dori about something, and Ori didn't seem to keen on talking to a girl. He'd probably never seen one before, or at least he hadn't known it was a female. When Aragorn said it was the beards that threw people off, he wasn't kidding.

We passed through the Shire far too quickly. I found myself looking over my shoulder, trying to commit the place to memory. New York had its own beauty to it, but the Shire was pure, something my city could never have even dreamt of being.

We entered a wooded area and I smiled to myself. No doubt, Bilbo was already up and running to catch up. The sun was out and the woods were alive with the sounds of birds, horses, and Dwarves. I barely kept myself from squealing, because I was really there. I really was. I was there, in the Shire, on a quest to regain the Lonely Mountain.

"WAIT! WAIT!" Everyone turned and I saw Bilbo Baggins running up the path with the contract waving in his hand. He looked at me and I grinned at him. I felt like I might even tear up at the look on his face, he was so excited. "I signed it," he sighed and handed the contract to Balin. Bilbo glanced at Gandalf, who gave him a small smile, but then he looked back at me. I smiled widely, and he nodded, as if he had been looking for my approval.

"Everything appears to be in order," announced Balin as he folded up the contract. "Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins."

"Get him a pony," ordered Thorin.

"Oh that's really unnecessary," Bilbo said quickly. "I could walk, really, I-"

"You can ride with me, Mr. Baggins," I said and moved Myrtle up to him. Bilbo looked nervous as I held my hand out to help him up. I smiled at him again, trying to calm him. "Hey, I've never ridden before either. It's really not that bad, and Myrtle here is a sweetheart." Bilbo nodded and we managed to get him onto the pony without much trouble.

I grinned and hid my smile behind Bilbo's head. I was in Middle Earth. I was riding a pony with Bilbo Baggins. I was in the company of Thorin Oakenshield. The sun was out and the entire world was beautiful.

Not bad for a first day.

* * *

**A/N:** Ay, we finally left Bag End! If there was another category available for each fanfiction, I would have labeled this as an angst fic, good gracious. So much angst.

I apologize to all vegetarians/vegans for this chapter.

**Avalanet:** :)

**echoi5004:** You just gave me an infinite supply of happiness. This is exactly why I chose to write Blair as I did. I respect you greatly as well, and I hope if I ever write something stupid in regards to Korean culture (because I'm relying entirely on Google and that's not entirely accurate), please let me know! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. There is definitely more Blair/Thorin to come!


	7. Chapter 6: Culture Clash

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

* * *

**Through the Inferno**

**Chapter 6: Culture Clash**

* * *

I sighed and looked over my shoulder. The rolling hills of Hobbiton had completely disappeared. The rest of Middle Earth was beautiful, to be sure, but something about that place stuck with me. Maybe it was because it was the first time I'd ever seen the countryside. Maybe it was just the natural beauty of the Shire. Whatever it was, I was grieved to leave it.

"Miss it already?" Bilbo asked and I looked back at his smiling face. I smiled and nodded. "I miss it, too."

"I've got no business missing a home that isn't mine," I said as cheerfully as possible. Bilbo looked at me a little sadly and shrugged.

"Maybe you'll have a home like it someday."

"Maybe."

"What was your home like?"

"I lived in a city," I said simply. Bilbo waited a moment and I sighed. "It's one of the largest cities in the country. Tons of people, but a few quieter areas if you know where to look. Um… well, it's dirty, but there aren't any dirt roads. Everything's paved. All the buildings are very tall. The tallest ones are called skyscrapers."

"How tall are they?" Bilbo asked.

"Uh, I guess maybe fifty stories, er, floors. A few have around one hundred floors."

"Hah." He sounded something between shocked and impressed. Balin looked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.

"Skyscrapers?" he asked. "All above ground then?"

"Yep," I said, and I wondered how in a world with Minas Tirith and Helm's Deep and all these amazing structures a couple of measly skyscrapers were anything to sniff at. Then again, those were built with mountains supporting them, so maybe a hundred story stand-alone structure was pretty impressive.

We fell into a slightly awkward silence that I didn't have the courage to break. Fortunately, that did little to ruin my mood. I was in Middle Earth. I could just enjoy the scenery, and why not? It was absolutely beautiful. Every rock, every blade of grass, every twig was awe-inspiring. This entire world, something that by all rights shouldn't exist, was there before me, waiting to be admired. I smiled and closed my eyes, thrilled to know that when I opened them this world would still be there.

"How'd you learn to fight, lass?" Dwalin suddenly asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Did your father teach you?"

"No," I said. "I was trained by a master. Well, by a few, but one in particular helped me the most." I decided it wasn't the best idea to mention that the others refused to teach me after a few years. They said I wasn't learning the most important lessons. I wasn't following "the way," that there was an angry spirit in me. Master Sung had continued to teach me, though, because he said he believed someday I could release my anger; I just needed help.

"Do all girls learn to fight?" asked Bilbo.

"No," I said and shook my head. "Most people don't know how to fight. My parents agreed I should take lessons when I was young. I was… a little out of control, and my grandma said it was the best way for me to learn self-control."

"Out of control?" Fili said with a smirk. "You? I don't believe it for a second." I smiled and shrugged.

"I was a child. They're not always well-behaved."

"You certainly weren't," Kili nudged his older brother with his foot and the two began to bicker about their childhood.

"Is that how many warriors learn then?" Bilbo asked. "A master teaches them?"

"Some maybe, but most people who learn how to fight like I did just do it for exercise or something. I'm a rare case where I actually applied what I learned."

"You've been in battle?" Thorin was the one who asked. I hadn't realized he could hear me, or had been paying attention.

"Not the kind you're thinking of," I said. "I'd call them fights."

"There's a difference?" asked Bilbo, confused.

"Well, those words usually mean something similar, but I don't know. The word 'battle' just doesn't create the same picture in my mind as a fight. Like, I picture a battle as two armies clashing. I would travel around my city and search for people causing harm. Then I'd fight them and then leave them for the police."

"What's a police?" asked Fili. _Oh right. That's not a thing here._

"I guess they're sort of like guards," I said. "But yeah, if I found people selling drugs or assaulting someone I'd just knock them out and leave them. It's not always easy, especially when they have a group."

"What are drugs?" asked Dori. _Probably what you were smoking last night._

"They're…. ugh, I guess they're substances, like powders or liquids or whatever, that make you feel really good. It gives you a temporary high. But it can f–" _I should probably watch my language now._ "– mess you up badly, so it's illegal to sell, buy, or possess certain drugs."

"Do the police ever help you?" asked Balin. I laughed.

"They'd arrest me if they ever found me," I said. Every Dwarf looked at me, completely confused, and I laughed again. "I'm a vigilante. I'm not supposed to do what I do."

"But… you're a hero," said Ori. I smiled at him. What a sweetheart.

"I'd like to think that," I said, "but I'm still on the wrong side of the law. I'm supposed to leave dealing with crime to the police. That makes sense, unless the police force is as corrupt as it is." Oh, those fuckers hated when I did their job for them, especially when they purposely left the job undone.

"What would they do if they caught you?" asked Kili, a worried expression on his face. I shrugged.

"Probably kill me," I answered. The whole company looked outraged, and I felt a little warmth grow inside me. "Apparently I caused a lot of headaches for the wrong people. So, yeah, if they caught me, they'd shoot me right away. They're probably pissed someone beat them to it." _Is pissed a bad word here? Ah, whatever. They don't seem to mind._

"That's ridiculous!" protested Nori. "They shouldn't kill you for helping them!"

"They don't want my help. These men get a kick out of the power they have, and some girl doing their job better than they are undermines their authority. They're not interested in actually helping the city. A lot of them actually help criminals as long as they get some kind of profit."

"And they hate you for interfering with their business," Balin figured.

"That about sums it up," I said. Everyone mulled over what I'd said and started grumbling. There were a few sounds of disgust and I felt like I was back in New York, listening to old men on a street corner complain about politics. That was a beautiful feeling.

"You are knowledgeable about Middle Earth," said Thorin and my eyes were drawn to the front of the company. He ignored a look from Gandalf and continued, "Why don't we know anything about… where you said you came from?"

"Earth," I said. "And I don't know. I thought that maybe since I knew about Middle Earth, you'd know something about another world, but apparently not."

"Apparently," muttered Gandalf and I smirked. I could tell he was irritated that he knew about as much as the Dwarves about Earth. He seemed to be a bit of an information glutton.

"Keep telling us about Earth," said Kili eagerly.

"If you don't mind, that is," added Fili.

"I don't mind," I said. "But I don't really know what to say."

"What are the names of the countries?" asked Gloin.

"I can't name all of them!" I said with a laugh. "I'll try to say as many as I can remember. Um, there's America, Canada, North and South Korea, Mexico, Ecuador, Chile, Brazil, Argentina, uh, and France, England, Ireland, Spain, Germany, Poland, Italy, erm, and Russia, Switzerland, oh! And and Vatican City. Then there's China, Japan, India, Nepal, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, uh, Egypt, Morocco, Libya, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, South Africa, and… that's all I've got for now. There's like a hundred more, but I can't remember."

"Which one is your homeland?" asked Gandalf.

"I'm from America, er, the United States," I corrected myself. "The United States of America. North America is the continent, and then my country is a bunch of, well, states under the same government."

"Like an empire?" asked Nori.

"Sort of," I said, not sure how to explain my homeland. I realized suddenly that the U.S. was in fact very complicated.

"Who is your emperor?" asked Thorin. _Yeah, you would be interested in that, Mr. Kingly-Majestic-Beard._

"We don't have one," I said. "The closest thing we have to that is our president, but he doesn't have that kind of power."

"How can an emperor not have power?" asked Dwalin.

"Because he's not an emperor," I repeated. "You see there are three branches of government." _You're kidding._ "The branch we're talking about is called the executive branch. That's the president." _You're fucking kidding._ "He's elected by the people every four years. He can only serve two terms though, just to keep one man from having too much power." _I'm giving a Civics lesson to the company of Thorin Oakenshield._ "He carries out the laws of the land, deals with a lot of foreign relations, and he controls our army." _Wow, you fucking moron. Stupid._

"What are the other two branches?" asked Balin. _Are you kidding? This shit bored me to tears in ninth grade!_

"Well, those are the legislative and the judicial branches," I said. "The legislative branch is our Congress. They make the laws. The members of Congress are elected every few years by the people as well."

"Giving a mob unchecked power is unwise," said Thorin.

"It's not unchecked," I said. "The president can veto a bill, or stop a law from passing, if he disagrees with it. Then, if the Congress really wants the bill to pass, they can override the veto if they get a majority vote."

"Then the laws of the land are subject to the whim of the majority?" asked Thorin. I probably would have rolled my eyes if it had been anyone else, but Thorin Oakenshield was not the kind of person you gave attitude to.

"No," I said. "That's where the judicial branch steps in. There's a group called the Supreme Court that can judge whether a law is unconstitutional or not."

"Could you explain that a little more, please?" asked Bilbo. _I finally escape school and now I'm a teacher._

"We have a document, the Constitution, which was written by our Founding Fathers. It describes how the government it supposed to work and how much power each branch can wield. It also describes the rights of the people, like freedom of speech and religion, and the states' rights. It keeps everyone in line as well as protects them. The Supreme Court is sort of like an interpreter. Like, if a law was being passed that said people couldn't criticize the Congress or something, they could say it was unconstitutional because it interfered with freedom of speech and then that law couldn't be passed." _Stop. Asking me. About. Government._

"That all seems very complicated," said Ori. "Wouldn't it be easier to just have a king, like Thorin?" The Dwarves murmured in agreement and I laughed. Thorin looked over his shoulder at me and glared, and I had to ignore my immediate instinct to apologize profusely.

"It would be simpler, yes," I said, "but we wouldn't have a king like Thorin. They don't make men like him where I'm from." Thorin stopped glaring. "The United States wasn't always a country. At one point, it was a group of colonies, ruled by the king of England. For a while, the colonies and England got along, but then some laws were passed that took away basic rights or messed up the economy. So the colonies rebelled. There was a war, the Revolutionary War, and surprisingly the colonies won. The Founding Fathers were men selected from each colony to go to our first Congress, and there they voted for independence from England. They knew what they were doing was illegal and would get them killed, but they knew that it needed to be done. The king had abused his power. Anyway, so a few of them eventually wrote the Constitution and that's our government and has been ever since."

"Your country has a very colorful history," said Gandalf.

"You've no idea," I said. _My head really hurts now._

"What are the customs of your land?" asked Dori. _NO._

"Um, could you be a bit more specific?"

"How do you greet one another?"

"I guess a handshake or a wave. Sometimes a head nod, or if you come from a specific ethnic group you might greet people differently, like with a bow or something."

"There's no real proper way to do it?" asked Bilbo incredulously.

"Well, sometimes there is. If you meet someone in a business environment you'd probably shake their hand. Teenagers tend to just wave or nod their head. Then there are huggers… I don't like huggers." I shuddered, remembering the time I met a very hug-prone mom.

"How do you greet people?" asked Kili.

"Just how I greeted all of you. I just say my name."

"No bows or handshakes?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Never felt like it."

"Why is there no normal greeting in the United States?" asked Fili.

"You can just call it the U. S.," I said, "and I don't really know. It's probably because so many people from different countries go to live there that everything got mixed up and everyone just gave up on having a set way to do things."

"Why do some many people go to live there?" asked Ori.

"Opportunity. And freedom."

"What?"

"Other countries have it a lot worse than we do. People come to the U.S. because they need jobs or asylum from a corrupt government. I mean, all government is corrupt, but some are worse than others. They might have a military leader who's killing thousands of people or a civil war that's destroying the country. My grandma left for the U.S. when North and South Korea were dividing."

"It seems like her home country has a colorful history as well," Balin said with a smile. I shrugged.

"They're all the same stories, really. Someone wants too much power and they mess everything up."

"So even in other worlds, it's true what they say," he sighed. It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about, but then I smiled sadly and nodded.

"Above all else, Men desire power." It wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last, that I acknowledged that humans were fucked up. Then I remembered an internet phenomenon that Em had shown me and I snorted. "But… not all men." She would've been pissing herself if she'd been there. Fuck, I missed her.

"I reckon you're right," agreed Balin and I bit back a smirk. "You don't seem too keen on power." Oh. I chewed on that thought for a moment before speaking.

"Well," I began slowly, "I do. Everyone does, I think, it's just on a different scale. I don't want worldwide domination. I just…" I just wanted my family back, but I wasn't about to say that out loud and start sobbing in front of everyone. It was too nice of a day and they didn't know me that well. Instead, I shrugged and left it at that.

* * *

I pondered everything Blair had said. She was a strange girl from a strange world, but the scenarios she had described were far too familiar.

Erebor, though a great and powerful city, had not been immune to corruption. Slander, extortion, blackmail, murder. Not every lord felt bound by honor. Not every warrior believed he was there to protect the innocent. It was not difficult to imagine her home, a world control by Men, was essentially in ruins.

Blair's world had sown deep distrust in her. All government was corrupt, all beings wanted power, authority could not be trusted. There was wisdom in her view of the world, but it was sobering to see someone so young be so cynical.

I wondered if I should be concerned about her. She came from a country born of rebellion and made her way in the world mocking those in authority. Admittedly, they were cruel rulers, but what if she believed she had a right to challenge anyone? She said she did not want a throne or gold. She wanted absolute power over herself. That was not necessarily good or bad. It all depended on who she was and what she did with that power.

I would keep a close eye on her to be safe, though I felt that she would do whatever she could to help us. After all, she had signed a contract, and legal documents were somewhat important to her people.

* * *

"What's the food like on Earth?" asked Bombur. We had camped for the night and I was blowing on a spoonful of stew to cool it.

"Well, a lot of it is weird. It's not really food."

"That doesn't make sense," said Bilbo slowly. How do you explain junk food, processed food to people who don't even have light bulbs?

"It's… well it's edible and everything, but a lot of it isn't like vegetables or meats or whatever. People just put a bunch of chemicals together and then you eat it. It's not really good for you, but it tastes pretty good, I guess."

"I don't understand how you can make food that's not food," said Bombur gruffly. I smiled.

"I don't know how they do it," I said, "but they manage."

"Do you have any actual food?" asked Bilbo. I nodded and sipped the stew. My eyes widened.

"Enough to know this is really good," I said. "Thanks, Master Bombur."

"If you insist on us calling you by your first name, you can bet we will expect the same from you, lass," said Bofur. I nodded.

"Thanks, Bombur," I said, and the cook nodded his appreciation.

"What's the real food like?" asked Kili.

"Pretty good. I mean it's pretty much the same stuff everywhere. Seasoned meats and vegetables and some other side dish. Some people act like food is so exotic just because it's a new recipe."

"Trying new food can be exciting," Bilbo said, seeming mildly offended. I smiled and shrugged.

"Didn't say it wasn't," I replied. "It's just that sometimes people make it seem like this whole big thing when really they're just eating beef and potatoes. Yeah, it's good, but it's the same play with different actors." Em's mom was like that. She was so proud when her daughter brought me home, like I was some prized doll showing how inclusive Emily was, like being Korean American made me a novelty. I was just a person. Yeah, my culture was different, but I grew up in New York same as the next million people.

"I'm sensing a story behind this," Fili said with a grin. All eyes turned on me and I sighed.

"My friend invited me over to her house," I began. This story was always somewhere between hilarious and sad for me. "Her dad was making dinner, and her mom got all flustered because maybe I wouldn't like the food they were having. It was just chicken and beans, and I like food, so it wouldn't have been a problem. But she was convinced I wasn't going to like it, because I 'wasn't used to it.' So… she ordered Chinese from a local restaurant. Do you see the problem here?" Blank stares. "I'm Korean. And she got Chinese. Because she thought I wouldn't like 'normal' food." Realization slowly dawned on each Dwarf and our camp was filled with laughter.

"That's incredible!" hooted Bofur. I grinned and laughed quietly with them. I had obviously been offended when that happened, but it slowly became a way to annoy the hell out of Emily. I had never seen her blush before her mother started dumping boxes of take out onto square plates. Then she covered up the English part of her fortune cookie and asked me if I could read it. She turned the same shade as her daughter when I gently revealed that I was, in fact, not Chinese.

It grew quiet except for a few hushed conversations as we finished off Bombur's stew. I sat by the fire next to Bilbo as Bifur collected the dishes. I enjoyed the almost silent night. The only sounds were the fire and the Dwarves speaking. Gandalf sat a little ways away, smoking his pipe and thinking. I watched him for a little while, wondering what was going on in his mind.

"Blair," Kili said, drawing my attention. He looked nervous. I didn't want to push him so I waited patiently for him to continue. "What is it like… What's it like?" I cocked my head, confused.

"If it's not too personal," Fili added. Oh…

"What's dying like?" I asked, and my mouth felt dry as they nodded. It had to be them, didn't it? I didn't mind the question, but how the hell could I tell them what it was going to be like? How was I supposed to do that? Fuck.

"You don't have to answer that, lass," Balin said and gave the brothers a hard glare.

"No," I said, surprising myself. "It's fine. It's not everyday you can ask that and get a real answer." I stared at the grass and tried to focus on what had happened to me rather than what would happen to them. Shit, what had even happened? "Well… it was pretty painful. But it was quick. I barely even realized what was going on. I mean, I knew, but I didn't have time to really think about it." I tried to come up with the right words to say. How could I explain this? How could I explain the feeling of life leaving you? I tasted blood and flinched before realized I had been chewing the inside of my cheek. Memories of a red spray on my face and the metallic taste filling my mouth flashed through my mind. I pushed them away and continued, "It's like… It's not quite like falling asleep. When I'm tired, I feel heavy, but when I was dying, I felt lighter somehow. Kind of numb, but still aware of everything, especially the pain." I shrugged. "I mean I wasn't really thinking about it that much." No. My thoughts were occupied with the asshole in front of me. With ending his sorry life. "I guess that's all I've got to say about that."

The mood in the camp had shifted. It was tense and somber, each Dwarf weighing the possibility that he would die. I bit my cheek again and looked down. I couldn't look at any of them, Balin, Ori, Fili, Kili…

"How old are you?" I looked up and found his eyes. Thorin was looking at me with an unreadable expression. Caught off guard, I immediately answered.

"Twenty-two." His eyes widened and suddenly everyone was looking at me again. I shifted uncomfortably.

"Twenty-two?" asked Dwalin incredulously.

"Yeah." He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Twenty-two what?"

"Days," I said sarcastically, and when my joke fell flat I admitted, "Years. I'm twenty-two years old."

"Men do sometimes force their young into battle," Balin said as if he was trying to make sense of it. "But you were not compelled by any ruler."

"I was compelled by their mistakes," I defended myself.

"Twenty-two," Dwalin laughed under his breath. "I'd never have guessed."

"You died," Thorin said, seeming offended somehow.

"I did."

"So young?"

"Yep."

"You had so many years left in you."

"Humans don't have as many years in them as Dwarves." Like I was talking about a car or cell phone. And the warranty is such and such. Oh, and it has a touch screen.

"Humans live longer than twenty-two years," growled Thorin. Was he pissed that I'd died young or something? Big deal. People died before their time every day. He'd been in wars. He should have known that better than anyone.

"I've known people who died way younger than that." Thorin blinked and looked away. It seemed like that was the end of that conversation. I wondered if somehow this touched a nerve. Maybe they'd lost a lot of people like me, young and eager and full of promise… So not like me, but within my age group. Some random girl dropping out of the sky was the closest thing to contact with the dead. Maybe they were trying to tell every young person they'd seen die that it wasn't fair, that they deserved so much more. A lot of good that would do.

I stood up and stretched with a groan before walking over to Gandalf. He was looking up at the stars, a faraway look on his face. I settled down next to him and waited for him to speak.

"Who was it that died?" he asked quietly after a while. I felt my chest tighten. I didn't know if I wanted to talk about it, but I could give it a try.

"My sister," I said. "And my best friend, the girl I mentioned earlier."

"How old were they?"

"Seven and fifteen."

"How old were you?"

"… I was ten and fifteen." Gandalf stopped breathing for a moment.

"They died in your arms," he whispered. The words were so quiet I barely heard them. "You should never have had to experience something like that, my dear."

"I know." We were silent and watched the sky, the soft wisps of cloud passing in front of the stars. I didn't feel as empty as I thought I would. Maybe it was because Gandalf was sharing some of the weight with me now. I always thought that if I started talking about Em or Sissy or anyone, I'd just lose it. But I didn't feel like crying. I just felt calm.

I heard the Dwarves preparing to lie down and sleep for the night. Bilbo's voice rose above all the commotion as he asked if they really expected him to get any sleep on a pile of rocks. I smiled and looked back at them. It made something warm and comforting spread in my chest to see all of them settling down for the night. And it was real. All of it, everything, was real.

"You don't want to go back to your world, do you?" asked Gandalf. I chewed on my cheek and tried to figure out how to answer him.

"I don't think so," I said. "There's a lot of shit– sorry." He chuckled and shook his head. "Well, there are plenty of problems there, but this place isn't exactly perfect either. Back on Earth, there are a lot of things that I'll miss. We have good medicine and ways to keep clean and everything. I can't even shower or brush my teeth here. I can feel how dirty my hair is getting and my breath will probably be able to kill something tomorrow. But it's nice to get away from everything for once."

"Brush your teeth?" asked Gandalf. I laughed. Of course, out of everything I said, that's what stuck with him.

"Cleaning my teeth," I explained.

"Why didn't you ask on of the Dwarves for some chew?" I looked at him like he'd grown another head.

"Chew?" _Tell me it means something different here._

"Yes," said Gandalf. "It cleans the mouth better than any paste I've ever tried. I plan to get a piece from Balin later, I think."

"Okay," I said slowly and stood up. Almost everyone was lying down now, trying to get to sleep. Balin and Dwalin were sitting up and smoking their pipes. I walked up to them awkwardly and addressed Balin. "Um, Master… I mean, Balin, could I have a piece of… chew?"

"Of course, lass," said the old Dwarf with a smile. He handed his pipe to his brother and dug through his pack for something. He pulled out a small bundle that he unwrapped. It revealed a pile of… something. He ripped off a small piece and handed it to me. I looked at the two Dwarves before hesitantly putting the "chew" in my mouth. I was expecting the nasty taste of tobacco to overwhelm me. Instead I tasted cinnamon. I blinked in surprise and chewed on the piece of… chew. It felt so familiar. I nearly laughed out loud.

"Gum," I said with a smile. Dwalin and Balin cocked their heads.

"What's that, lass?" asked Balin.

"We have something like this on Earth," I said. "But we call it gum."

"Why?"

"Haven't the foggiest." I could feel the Dwarvish gum really cleaning my mouth out. It felt like I was brushing my teeth while using mouthwash at the same time. How had people not come up with something like this already? Still, it was weird to be tasting cinnamon instead of mint. "You wouldn't by any chance have any mint gum-err, chew?" I asked. Balin frowned and shook his head.

"I've never heard of mint chew," mumbled Dwalin.

"It's my favorite," I said with a shrug.

"Well, maybe someday we can get some made for you," said Balin with a smile. I nodded and looked for a place to sleep.

* * *

Sleep would not claim me for a very long time. It wasn't simply because the other Dwarves were snoring too loudly or because the ground was uncomfortable. I was weary from traveling, but my mind had too many thoughts running through it to rest.

Erebor. Blair said that we would succeed. That gave me a new hope, a new happiness. I could have stayed awake for weeks just so I could think about it. Everything I had ever endured or would endure would be worth it just to see my home again. Now I knew it would finally be _mine_ again and not in the clutches of that worm. There was hope for a future now, and it was difficult to keep myself from smiling like some young starry-eyed Dwarf in love.

_I know who dies._

When I sent out the call for companions, I had warned them that they would likely die. I had expected to perish before Blair said that I would reclaim the Mountain. Now I knew that some of my companions might not live to see Erebor fully restored. The idea of that made my heart grow cold. But she said she wouldn't be able to stand by and watch them die. I had my concerns regarding her respect for authority, but I was confident that she would protect my Dwarves no matter the cost.

Now that my doubts of our mission were gone, I found my thoughts wandering back to the newcomers in our company. Bilbo Baggins confused me greatly. He was clearly not meant to be with us. He was useless. He could do very little other than complain or eat, and since eating was not always an option, he chose to do as much of the former as possible. Why had he come? Last night he had fainted at the mention of death. Now he was running towards it with open arms, whining about how difficult the run was all the while. Blair Yoon was also a mystery, despite answering any inquiry openly. She was woman from another world with complete knowledge of what was to come, or at least what was meant to be. And she was just barely a woman, having seen only twenty-two winters. She knew so much, had seen and endured so much.

_Two people I loved very much died in my arms._

I remembered that day… the day I turned around and saw the Defiler holding my grandfather's head aloft. I had never felt so sick in my life. I had never felt more powerless, not even when Smaug took my home. Knowing that I had failed to save my family was the worst thing I'd ever experienced. It had been over a hundred years since that battle, and still the memory made my chest ache in a way unbefitting a king and a warrior. Still, I could only imagine what Blair had seen. What was it like to watch the life leave the eyes of those you loved? I wondered who it was that she watched die. Her parents? A friend? A lover? Perhaps I would never know.

* * *

**A/N:** I am an American.

This was difficult to write, so it took me a while to get this chapter up. I apologize. I know this is a lot of dialogue, but fear not, things will happen eventually. Please let me know what you think of all this nonsense!

**Avalanet:** YES BACON IS LOVE BACON IS LIFE I mean what... I am a fan of bacon. I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope this one is to your liking as well, despite the lack of the breakfast meat god.

**Kilataia: **I DIDN'T RESPOND TO YOUR LAST REVIEW AND I RESPONDED TO THE OTHERS AND I NOTICED THAT A FEW DAYS AGO AND I AM A BAD PERSON I AM SO SORRY I LOVE YOU. I hope everyone survives too. That would be great. *looks pointedly at Peter Jackson*

** :** Oh, Blair will go through so much angst and so much emotional conflict. I should give the poor girl a break, but alas, writers are the cruelest of beings.

**xSiriuslyPadfoot:** I love them too. So much. Those two troublemakers. Thorin will most certainly grow annoyed the more his feelings grow, but for now Blair is just an interesting girl, not necessarily his crush. Jealous!Thorin will appear in the future. No worries!

**echoi5004: **I was planning on having Blair use Korean eventually as a kind of middle finger salute to the Dwarves for speaking Khuzdul in front of her. When she does that in Thorin's POV, I'll definitely come to you instead of Google Translate. Of course, it'd make sense for her to call at least her grandma a Korean name. Is Appa/Oppa just an affectionate title or is it specific? (I tried to use Translate on them and it didn't work so I need your help now!) Any nicknames or advice on the language is most appreciated!


End file.
